


Past, Future,Present

by QueenBagelcat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Blood Loss, Brotherly Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Family Feels, Gen, Homophobia, Injury Recovery, Loss, Nightmares, No Slash, No Smut, Regret, Season/Series 11, loss of a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBagelcat/pseuds/QueenBagelcat
Summary: When Dean is dragged through a portal into another world, the two brothers are forced to cope while trying to find a way back to each other. Dean learns about his family that never was and Sam tries not to spiral out of control. Rated T for swearing and show typical violence.  (Wrote this before the show explored alternative worlds.)  Set in Season 11.





	1. Chapter 1

Sam stood at his brother's shoulder watching the bones of Abigail Carmichael burn into ash in the basement of the abandoned school. As salt and burns go, this one had been pretty easy. In life, the woman had been a beloved teacher, murdered and hidden in the school by an obsessed janitor. Abigail's ghost had drawn attention to evidence that identified the man who had killed her, and once justice had been served, she seemed content to have the Winchesters put her to rest.

This kind of job brought a lot of satisfaction to Sam. They had helped capture a murderer, prevented him from hurting anyone else and gave peace to a woman who deserved it. He glanced over at his brother in the shadowy light and saw the same feelings evident on Dean's face too.

"Feels good, huh Sammy, to do our job. Cut and dried - helping people," said Dean turning slightly to catch his eye.

Sam smiled at Dean, relishing the closeness he felt with his brother. Despite everything looming with the Darkness, the spell that Cas was recovering from, and his visions from God, Sam felt like maybe his life didn't suck as badly as usual. "And for once neither of us are bruised, broken or bleeding," Sam said with a soft smile in his voice.

Dean smiled back, the real smile that Sam knew was reserved especially for him, and then bent to pick up the weapons bag. Abigail's bones had burned out and it was time to go. Together they walked back up the stairs, shoulders brushing companionably. They turned the corner into a hallway lined with broken lockers and doors leading to classrooms. Dean stopped, holding his hand up bringing both brothers to a halt. "Hear that?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam did hear a whooshing, crackling noise, kind of like a fire on a gusty night, but with a strange humming as part of the sound. Silently he pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans. Dean did the same and the two men crept towards the classroom door where the sound seemed to be coming from. With a steady palm Dean pushed open the door to room 14. In the middle of the broken desks and chairs was a large glowing disturbance. It hissed, buzzed and popped as it shimmered in the dark room. "It looks like some kind of portal," Sam whispered as they spread out a bit and walked closer to examine the strange phenomenon.

"Do you think it's - " Dean began but was cut off when two people rushed from behind a fallen table, grabbed Dean and leapt into the portal. The three figures disappeared with a loud pop and a brief flash of blue light.

"Dean!" Sam felt his heart stop as his brother's name was ripped from his throat. He lunged towards the portal determined to follow wherever Dean had been taken when he was roughly tackled from behind, knocking his gun from his hands. Frantically Sam turned toward his attacker, throwing a wild punch. He felt his fist connect and he shoved himself free, ready to jump into the portal when it wavered, and then blinked out of existence. There was a sudden silence, the absence of the portal's constant buzz-hum was like an echo in the dark room. Sam scrambled to his gun and turned, ready to extract some answers from one of the people who stole his brother. His chest was heaving in shock and fear and his breathing sounded loud in the now quiet room as he climbed to his feet, never taking his eyes off of his assailant.

"Calm down, Sam, your brother is fine," said a voice from the shadows. Sam's hands were rock steady as he held his gun on the man who was also slowly getting up from the floor. The stranger's hands were weaponless and held up in submission. With a careful eye on Sam, the man righted two chairs and sat down in one. Motioning Sam towards the other one, "If you'll just listen, I'll tell you everything."

Sam weighed his options. He wanted to shoot this man for acting so casually when Dean had just disappeared to God knows where. Every nerve was screaming at him to move, run, do something to find Dean. But, with a few calming breaths, Sam took a couple of steps towards the man. The moonlight from the broken window bathed the two of them and Sam could see that the stranger was a regular looking guy. He seemed to be in his early-forties, with brown hair, brown eyes and he moved with the efficiency of a soldier. Gun still firmly aimed at the stranger, "Where's my brother," Sam demanded.

The other man's eyes grew wide when he saw Sam's face clearly in the moonlight. "Holy shit, you look exactly like him," breathed the guy.

Losing patience, Sam gestured with his gun, "Start talking, or I'll make you talk." In his mind he knew that he sounded like a character in a bad cop movie, but he didn't care. Dean was missing which meant that there was nothing Sam wouldn't say or do to get his brother back.

"Ok, ok," the guy said, putting his hand back up in a placating way. "My name is Christopher Markham and I'm from what you would consider an alternative version of your world."

"What?," stuttered Sam.

"Look, in my world the year is 2011. We've been in a war since the Apocalypse happened, but we're in a stalemate with Lucifer's forces. The higher ups came up with a plan that could turn the tide and maybe take that bastard down once and for all. But we needed your brother. So, we came here and borrowed him."

Sam felt his knees grow a little weak so he carefully lowered himself to the chair Christopher had provided. Lucifer!, Sam thought. The Apocalypse happened? Why, what was different? His thoughts were frenzied. Lucifer wasn't in the cage in that timeline? Had the alternative version of himself said Yes? More importantly, what did they want Dean for - as a vessel for Michael?

"What do you want my brother for?," he asked Christopher harshly. "He won't say Yes to Michael if that's what you think."

"Nah, that ship sailed ages ago. Michael has a vessel, some kid from Minnesota, and he's been marshalling his troops against Lucifer, but the toll it's taking on us humans is getting bad. And the angels aren't so fussed about how many of us get killed in the crossfire. So we had to come up with a way to stop big, bad Satan before he can rip the world apart completely."

Christopher's tone was flippant, but Sam could see from his expression that there was a lot of pain and anguish hidden in his words. Now that he could see the man's eyes, he knew he was looking at the face of a battle-worn soldier, desperately clinging to a thin shred of hope. Sam finally lowered his hand, his gun resting loosely on his thigh as his brain tried to make sense of the information. As always, his thoughts were with his brother first.

"So where is the Dean from your timeline?," Sam asked.

Christopher's brown eyes darted away briefly before returning to Sam's hazel ones. "Our Dean didn't survive the Michael/Lucifer showdown at the cemetery," he said simply.

In a blinding flashback of memory, Sam could feel his brother's blood on his hands and the bones of Dean's face smashing under his fists. He remembered Cas exploding, spraying blood and viscera everywhere, the sound of Bobby's neck snapping...Sam shuddered.

"What about Bobby or Castiel?," Sam asked hesitantly.

"Well, I wasn't there, but what I've been told is that Lucifer and Michael were set to toe off against each other when Dean and Bobby Singer showed up. I don't know exactly what happened, but Bobby and Dean were killed. Lucifer opened the gates of Hell releasing hoards of demons and hellhounds. Then supposedly the angel Castiel showed up with some angel friends who tried to stem the tide. In all that mess Lucifer escaped. Michael retreated back to heaven with the angels to regroup." A bitter smile crossed Christopher's face. "We humans did what we could, but what with the fires, earthquakes, electrical storms and floods, we didn't stand much of a chance. The hellhounds are relentless and since demons can possess almost anyone..," his voice faltered and Sam could see sadness and grief drift across his face. The soldier obviously had some horrible memories of his own. When he found his voice again Christopher continued. "It got bad, but some Hunters stepped up, started organizing some resistance and training people. Michael returned with more angels and we gained a little ground, but we haven't been able to stop Lucifer from decimating the planet." He shrugged his shoulders. "That's where we are now."

"So what's the plan? Why do you need my Dean?, How can he make a difference?," Sam asked, mind racing.

"No idea, it's above my pay grade. Look, my mission was simple. Come here with my team, and get Dean. My instructions were to hang out here and wait 5 of your days. Then the portal will re-open, Dean will come back, and I'll get to go back home." Christopher stretched out his legs as if settling in to wait. His eyes studied Sam's face, "I have to admit, it's totally freaky to be sitting here having a conversation with someone who looks exactly like Lucifer." The older man didn't seem to notice how Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Christopher leaned closer to Sam, "So, how come you're not the Prince of Lies in this timeline? I guess you didn't say Yes to the big question here."

"Actually I did," said Sam with a small sad smile. He saw Christopher's eyes widen with shock and fear. "But, I was able to take control from him and jumped us both back into the cage."

"Then how the hell are you sitting here alive?," breathed the brown eyed soldier, admiration and apprehension both shining in his eyes.

Sam had thought a lot about this question over the years. There were a lot of ways he could answer, but at its core, there was really only one reason why. "My brother," Sam answered simply. Of course there was so much more to that story - pain and fear, love and torment, guilt and redemption, his soul and insanity, but Sam wasn't going to discuss such dark and intensely personal history with a complete stranger.

"Jesus….no wonder we needed him," Christopher huffed in awe. The two men stared at each other in the shadowy room, both absorbed in their own thoughts. Eventually, the older man shook his head and pulled towards himself a large backpack that Sam hadn't noticed before. Sam's hand tightened on the gun he still held gripped in his palm. "Relax," said Christopher, noticing the movement "I'm just getting a snack." His eyes still on Sam, the soldier began opening his pack. "Hey, do you still have pizza in this time -" Without warning a small black creature with red eyes leapt out of the pack. Sharp clawed hands slashed at Christopher's throat and the man's words became a burble of blood.

Instinctively Sam pulled Ruby's knife from his jacket and and threw it at the Imp. His aim was true and the small body jerked to the floor, as the life sparked out of the demonic creature. Sam was on his feet and crouching beside Christopher in mere moments, but he could see there was nothing to be done. The soldier's eyes were glassy and unfocused even as his hands still limply clutched the gaping wounds on his throat. Sam put his own hands against the man's throat, but the imp's claws had practically decapitated the poor guy and Sam knew that there was no hope. Before he had even fully formed that thought, Christopher's eyes lost focus and his body relaxed into death. Sam sighed and let go of the soldier's throat, wiping the thick blood from his hands onto his jeans.

Sam retrieved his knife from the dead creature before it's body shrivelled and then collapsed into a pile of ash. With a cautious toe, he poked the pack again, but it seemed like the evil stowaway was the only one and that the danger had passed. Coming down from the adrenaline that had been pumping through him, Sam looked sadly at the man lying in the pool of blood at his feet. Christopher had seemed like a decent guy, just doing his job. And now that he was dead, so was his source of information. Sam still had many more questions about how the portal worked, what Dean was facing in the alternate world, and exactly how and when his brother was going to come back.

Feeling slightly guilty, Sam dug through Christopher's pockets for any additional clues. He found a photo of the dead man, arm around a pretty red haired woman. On the back of the photo, in delicate handwriting were the words "Be safe, I'll miss you. Love Katie." Sam carefully tucked the picture into one of his inside jacket pockets. Then he searched through the bag that had ultimately contained Christopher's assassin. There were no answers inside the backpack, just the clothes and equipment needed for a week long mission. The tools of a soldier who planned to make it home.

He scrubbed a still bloody hand over his face and sighed again. The school might be abandoned, but Sam couldn't risk leaving a body that might be found, since he needed to be back in this room in 5 days. Using a tarp from the pack, he rolled up the cooling body and gathered up both his and the other man's gear. Lifting the grisly burden over one shoulder and slinging the bags over the other, Sam made his way to the Impala, grateful that he had the spare keys with him. With the dead man in the backseat, he started the car and drove out towards the country, looking for a secluded place for a pyre. As his brother's car rumbled down the blacktop, Sam offered a silent prayer that Dean was alive and well and that he stayed that way.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean fiercely shrugged off the hands that gripped his right arm, simultaneously throwing a punch at the man holding his left. But both of his captors had immediately dropped their hands and had backed out of reach of Dean's swing. The angry hunter could see that he was in a room full of people, but free and clear for the moment, he focused on his most pressing priority - getting back to Sam. He spun on his heel, fully intending to jump back through the glowing blue portal, when with a buzzing, popping sound it winked out of existence. Only a nondescript wall stood where the portal had been. Shifting gears, Dean put his back towards the wall while smoothly pulling his gun from the waistband of his jeans and turning to face the people in the room.

As per his training, he took stock of the room and it's inhabitants. He was standing at the end of large horseshoe formed by, burning candles, a variety of symbols marked onto the floor and 7 people who were sitting cross legged. The people on the floor looked completely exhausted and drawn. The men who had grabbed him had backed away to the very edge of the horseshoe and stood respectfully watching Dean. The people sitting on the floor looked worn out but happy. Some of the people on the floor mustered up enough energy to extinguish the candles and carefully wipe away some of the symbols, but several just them stared at him blearily, curious and not overly concerned by the gun wielding man in their midst. Dean looked past them and he could see in the dim lighting a small group of people outside the horseshoe. They were seemingly waiting patiently for the sitters to finish. A young woman took a few steps forward and raised her empty hands in a non-threatening gesture that Dean still found less than comforting.

"Hi Dean," the woman said. Now that the symbols were gone, she could approach a little closer. "I know you're a little confused, but I promise I will explain everything. No one here is going to hurt you." Dean kept his gun pointed at her chest, his hand not wavering even a little when he realized that she was pregnant.

"Where the hell am I?," Dean barked, eyes quickly scanning the room for any other threats before coming up to meet hers.

The woman calmly met his eyes and gave him a warm smile. "I promise, I will tell you everything, but I'm going to sit down to do it. Ok?" At that a man moved slowly to her side carrying a chair. After putting it down, he gently clasped her forearm and helped her lower herself onto the chair. Once she was seated, he placed a hand on her shoulder. He glanced apprehensively at the gun that was leveled at them both, but stood calmly enough beside her.

With another smile at Dean, she looked at the two men who had jumped him through the portal. "Mateo, Tyson, could you please escort the coven back to the dormitories. Make sure they get there safely and that the supplies are secured." In his peripheral vision, Dean could see both men snap to attention and nod at their orders. Moving forward, their eyes still drifting towards the gun in Dean's hand, they ushered the people who had been sitting on the floor towards the door. The small group seemed unconcerned about the weapon Dean held on the pregnant woman who was obviously their leader. She thanked them as they filed past, giving a smile or a nod to each one as they went by. Once they were gone, she patted the hand on her shoulder, "Alex, could you get a few more chairs?" The man moved to the far side of the room where more chairs were stacked.

"Ok, you're sitting. What the hell is going on here?," Dean demanded.

The pregnant woman ignored his question and looked back at the remaining people in the room who were walking forward cautiously.

The first was another woman, a redhead. Her eyes were swollen as if she had been crying recently, but she had a firm hold of the young girl she cuddled against her hip. The little girl clutched a floppy stuffed tiger in her hand, but she was half asleep against the redhead's shoulder. The woman shot a nervous look at the gun. "Lynn, can I take Melody back to our room?," she asked the seated leader.

"You're supposed to stay and witness!", another woman interjected. This one was a middle-aged, sandy blonde with a sour expression on her face.

"Relax Nancy, you, Alex and I are here to witness, let's let Katie put little Mel to bed." This speaker was a man. He had tight cropped hair and a relaxed air about him. His smile revealed white teeth that seemed extremely bright against his ebony skin. He reached out and fondly stroked the small girl's hair. Nancy grunted, obviously annoyed, but she said nothing, merely crossing her arms, waiting for her chair. The pregnant woman that her colleagues called Lynn, smiled at the man and then turned to the mother and child. "Of course Katie, we'll update you tomorrow." With that, the woman turned and carried the child from the room. She shot a last wary glance at Dean and pulled her child closer to her as she left.

Dean was getting impatient. He didn't appreciate being ignored and he wanted answers. He ground his teeth as the man called Alex brought 3 chairs back to where Lynn was sitting. Nancy took one, and the black man took another with a nod of thanks. Alex took a few steps closer to Dean and with a pointed look at the gun, set the chair down and returned to Lynn's side. The eldest Winchester stayed standing. "Look lady, where the Hell am I? I want some damn answers - NOW!" His tone and volume of his voice told those listening that he was done waiting patiently while these strangers played house.

"Ok Dean, first let me assure you that no one here means you any harm. My name is Lynn and this is my husband Alex." She gave her partner a tender look and patted his hand which had returned to her shoulder. Alex gave Dean a friendly smile despite the hunter's fierce glare. "This is Nancy Tillman and this is Max Robinson." She nodded in each of their directions as she spoke. "We've brought you from your world into ours because we need your help."

"Grabbing me against my will is a funny way of asking," Dean rumbled. He had gathered from the portal that he wasn't in Kansas anymore. "So, for the last time, where am I? Where is Sam?" At his brother's name, the woman flinched slightly.

"You're in our world, an alternative version of yours. Your brother should be safely back in your world." She leaned back and one hand drifted over her belly. "Please don't worry about Sam. We left one of our best soldiers with him to brief him on what is going on and to help protect him while you're gone." Nancy gave a soft snort at that, but kept quiet, her eyes sliding back towards the still cocked gun in Dean's hand.

"Protect him from what? How do you even know my name? How do you know that Sam is my brother? I swear, if you don't start talking I'm going to start shooting!" Dean was done. These people had pulled him here, leaving Sammy alone with a strange soldier, the Darkness was still running around his world and Dean was seriously pissed off. Max was armed, Dean could see the bulge of the gun under the man's jacket, and Dean assumed that Alex at least also had a weapon. Both men tensed slightly at his outburst, but stayed still, seemingly deferring to Lynn before taking any action.

Lynn herself seemed to be getting annoyed, she heaved a frustrated sigh and shifted in her hard wooden chair. "I wanted to ease you into this slowly, but I forgot how impatient you can get. I know your name and I know about Sam because in this world, I'm your sister." She huffed at him in a way that was very similar to how Sam always got when he was frustrated.

Dean was speechless, his mind reeling. Sister? Did that mean there was another version of him and Sam running around here somewhere? Alex stepped forward again and with pointedly slow movements, carefully removed something from his jacket pocket, he set the item on Dean's empty chair and then rejoined his wife.

Still on alert, Dean took the few steps to the chair and picked up what turned out to be a small stack of photographs. Gun still in hand, he rifled through them quickly. The majority were photos of someone who looked very much like himself with a younger version of Lynn and a man who was unmistakably a young Sam.

With his own sigh, Dean pulled the chair towards himself, turned it around and straddled it. His gun was still held loosely in his hand, but his arms were casually crossed over the back of the chair. When Dean sat, both men relaxed almost imperceptibly and Lynn gave him another warm smile. Dean looked closely at her and suddenly, it was as if something clicked in place. She had shoulder length light brown hair and hazel eyes, but it was the slight dimples caused by her smile that clinched it. Lynn looked a fair amount like Sam, and despite different colouring, a lot like pictures of Mary Winchester.

His would be sister leaned forward, eyes intently locked on his. "We need your help Dean. You might be the only chance we have to save Sammy."


	3. Chapter 3

Sam had been lying on the motel bed for most of the night trying to sleep, but it was pointless. His eyes drifted for what felt like the thousandth time to Dean's empty bed. Sam's anxiety for his brother was like a constant thrum running throughout his body, making sleep elusive, especially this night. Today was the day that the portal was supposed to reopen and bring his brother back to him. It had been a very long five days. All week, worry had gnawed at his gut, making eating a chore he often ignored. Sam was living on coffee and willpower. Despite days of research, Sam hadn't learned much about interdimensional portals except that they required incredible amounts of power to produce. He had thought briefly of driving the 9 hours back to the bunker to consult some of the books there, but he couldn't bring himself to leave town without Dean. He'd have called Cas, but with the angel so sick, he couldn't bring himself to worry their friend yet. Besides there was nothing Cas could do right now. Assuming everything went well today, Dean could tell Cas about his adventure himself.

Despite the fact that it was well before dawn, Sam finally gave up on sleeping. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Scrubbing his hands over his gritty eyes, he got up and headed to the shower. He knew what he was going to do. He was going to spend the entire day waiting in that classroom, and when that portal opened, if Dean didn't emerge from it then Sam was going to step through and find him.

Before the sun rose fully above the horizon, Sam was slipping back into the school. Earlier in the week he had hacked into the city database and filed a fake report about asbestos which should ensure that no one official ventured into the building for quite some time. He made his way down the corridor to classroom 14. The remains of the pool of blood beneath the two chairs had dried to rusty brown. Sam had tried to clean up the mess the night Christopher had died, but needed to leave before sunrise in order to take care of the man's body.

Moving one of the chairs out of the way, Sam sat down. He uncapped the thermos of coffee that he'd brought and settled in for a long wait. He didn't know if the portal would open at the exact time it had before, or sometime during the next 24 hours, but he was prepared to wait as long as it took. Sam was a strong, confident, dangerous hunter, and he could do this. But he admitted to himself, if not out loud, that right now he just needed to see his brother back safe and sound in order to feel whole.

Sam had long finished the coffee and was nodding off, chin against his chest. He had watched as the disheveled room glowed with the colours of dawn, had marveled at the way the dust motes had swirled in the heat and light of the afternoon sun, and fought to stay awake as the purple fingers of twilight cast the room into gloomy shadow. Despite his drowsiness, Sam felt the change in the air before actually heard it. A low hum resonated against his eardrums jolting him to high alert. He stood, grabbing his gear, ready to either welcome back his brother or join him in the alternative world once the portal fully formed. With a loud pop, a thin wavering blue circle formed in the air about waist high. Sam expected it swell and grow into the large oval portal that Dean had been pulled through 5 days ago, but instead a small object fell through the glowing circle with a hiss. Then another pop and the tiny portal disappeared leaving a phantom hum echoing in the now silent and dark classroom.

Stunned, it took a minute for Sam to look at the object that had landed on the dusty floor. Remembering the imp, he cautiously nudged the cloth wrapped bundle. When nothing happened, he picked it up and carefully unwrapped it. The first thing he saw was a folded envelope. "Sam" was written on the front in Dean's handwriting. The thick envelope was wrapped around Dean's Colt, the one he had tucked into the back of his jeans when he was taken. Sam's blood ran cold as he looked at his brother's gun sitting in his palm. His stomach heaved and he couldn't breathe. He had to get out of the quiet room that suddenly seemed airless. Clutching the contents of the bundle to his chest, Sam ran blindly out of the building and staggered to the comfort of the Impala.

Climbing into the passenger seat, Sam tried to catch his breath. He longed to open the envelope and the rest of the package, but once he had calmed down, Sam felt ashamed that he had lost control and acted like a panicked child instead of an experienced hunter. As much as he wanted to sit there and read by the dome light of the car, whatever his brother had written, the youngest Winchester knew he had a job to finish. Forcing himself to tuck the contents of the package into the trunk, Sam went back into the school to gather the gear he had left behind and to clear all signs of the blood and his presence.

An hour later, Sam was sitting at the small formica table back in the motel room with the contents of the bundle spread out before him. In addition to the envelope with his name on it and Dean's gun, there was another letter, addressed to Christopher. It had been tied around a small stuffy of a tiger. The children's toy was obviously well loved, it's fur worn thin, and it's joints loose. A tag was tied around the floppy neck. On one side the tag read "To Daddy, From Melody" in a scrawl of purple crayon. On the other side an adult hand had written "Mel insisted that I send you Tiggy for luck. We miss you." Sam blinked away the tears that threatened. Loss was something every hunter or soldier dealt with, but it was always painful to think of the children whose parents would never come home. Sam reverently gave the little tiger a gentle pat and then put the items for the dead man to one side.

Turning Dean's gun over in his hand, Sam imagined Dean putting it into the package before tossing it into the portal. If Dean had ever had a beloved stuffy, it had been long gone by the time Sam was old enough to remember. But for his brother, perhaps his favorite gun was equivalent to a stuffed tiger. Pushing a long finger into the flap of the envelop, Sam finally opened and unfolded the letter.

Sam,

So, I'm not going to be getting home this time. We got hit and three of the witches that open the portal got injured. The rest of the coven isn't strong enough without them. But don't worry, we'll try again. Time works differently over here, but apparently our worlds align on a regular schedule, so I'll make it back next time they can open the door. Imagine - me protecting witches! It's weird, but a lot is weird over here. I have so much to tell you when I get back.

In this world, the apocalypse happened, and Lucifer won. It's war between Heaven and Hell, and the remaining humans are getting crushed between the two armies. I was pretty pissed at getting snatched, but I'm working with the people here, now that I see the situation. They're good people, but most of them were civilians before the apocalypse, so I'm trying to bring them up to speed. This version of Lucifer is kicking our asses pretty hard and I'm doing what I can to help. It hasn't been going well Sam.

Another weird thing, Castiel is one of the angels we're working with, but over here, he doesn't know me. And he's in a different vessel, so he doesn't look like himself. He's Michael's right hand halo, so he's leading the angels against the demon forces. Now that the angels are back in the game, and we have a plan we think might work - well, this could turn the tide. I hope so anyway.

Part of me wishes you were here to watch my six, but I'm glad you are not in the middle of this war. You're probably freaking out right now, but don't Sam, I'll be fine. Take care of yourself, Sammy, lay low, stay safe, and don't forget to eat once in awhile. I'll be back soon.

Dean

P.S. Try not to give Christopher too much crap over all this. He sounds like a solid guy.

The tall hunter had to smile, even as his eyes misted over with tears. It was so like Dean to downplay what he was dealing with and worry about Sam. Dean was basically facing a post-apocalyptic world full of Lucifer's forces and armies of avenging angels. And here he was trying to make sure that Sam was eating. No matter what, Dean would never stop taking care of him. It warmed Sam's heart even as it ached for his brother. The next moment, the smile slid from Sam's face as he thought about the war Dean has so casually described. His brother was fighting through the very situation that Sam had literally gone to Hell to try and protect Dean from. Knowing that there was nothing he could do to help from this world, Sam buried his head in his hands and tried not to imagine the worst.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean stood facing the wall, the after-image of the glowing mini-portal still burned into the back of his closed eyelids. He desperately wanted to see Sam, to see with his own eyes that his brother was safe and healthy and Lucifer-free. It killed him that the best he could do was send a message with no idea if Sam was even able to receive it. The only solace Dean could find was that for Sam, only five days had passed. Sure a lot could happen in five days, but Sam was smart and careful. Dean sighed and dragged a bandaged hand across his stubbled chin. For him, it had been almost 6 long, bloody and violent months since he had seen his kid brother.

When he'd first found out that time flowed differently in this dimension and that he'd be stuck here for months, he hadn't taken it well. Apparently the two worlds only aligned well enough for the coven to produce a stable portal once every five and a half months. No matter how Dean wanted to rage and curse, it wasn't going to change anything. Pretty soon he did what he always did - face what was in front of him and do what he could do until things changed. But God did he miss Sam.

Dean felt torn. He had gotten close the the people here and knew that they needed every fighter they could get, but this world wasn't his home. Two days ago, he and Lynn had finally confronted Lucifer. The hope was that seeing Dean, and having him confirm that his Sam could and did overthrow the devil, that the two could reach her Sam, long enough for him to expel the asshole wearing his skin. Then Michael and the god-squad could take it from there. But Lucifer had looked at Dean with Sammy's eyes and laughed. Apparently, if the archangel was to be believed, Sam was delighted with the current arrangement. According to the devil, Sam wanted to be with Lucifer and their youngest sibling was happy to finally be out of their shadows and out of their family. Sam was enjoying the power and freedom to finally indulge his evil urges.

Of course Lucifer was probably lying, but it didn't stop his words from crushing Lynn's last hope to save her remaining brother. If Dean was honest, it had been painful for him too. To see Lucifer look and sound like Sam,...well even if this man wasn't his flesh and blood brother, it reminded him of some gut wrenching memories and just how precarious the situation was at home. With Amara on the loose and Sam a sitting duck waiting for Dean to come back….he didn't want to think about all the horrible things that could happen to his brother.

Dean's thoughts drifted back to the present and the package he'd sent through the mini portal the diminished coven had created. The note he'd written hadn't said all the things he wished he could tell the younger man. He had a horrible feeling in his gut that the note could be the last thing Sam ever heard from him. He had wanted to say how proud he was of Sam, how much he admired and respected his little brother and, sappy or not, how much he loved the kid. But he didn't want to freak Sam out and putting any of that in writing would have been too much like saying goodbye. He ran his uninjured hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck.

He felt a presence at his side and he turned to give his sort-of sister a wan smile. Dean felt bone tired and old, the constant fighting, injuries and worrying was taking its toll. But if there was one silver lining to this whole fucked-up mess, it was getting a chance to know Lynn and Alex. Lynn smiled at him, her warm hazel eyes - so much like Sam's - showing gold flecks in the low lighting. She put a hand on his arm and tugged gently, turning him away from the wall and it's lost promise of home. The four members of the coven who were uninjured had efficiently cleared away the runes and symbols and were now tiredly filing from the room under Tyson's watchful protection.

"Can we start now?," Nancy's snippy tone grated on Dean's nerves. Intellectually he knew that the irritating woman was a genius in handling all the minutiae of keeping their rag-tag army of humans housed, fed and supplied. Her skills in this area gave her a seat at the table, but it didn't mean that Dean didn't want to punch her in the face upon occasion. Nancy, Max, Alex, Mateo and Katie all sat around a makeshift war table. Maps and other papers littered the surface, juxtaposed with a baby bottle, a soft pink blanket and a rattle.

"Yes Nancy," Lynn pulled Dean towards the table. As they made their way over, they skirted a blanket that was spread on the dusty floor. Little Melody Markham was playing quietly with a doll that Dean had constructed for the girl out of a torn t-shirt and some scrap wool. Beside her a tiny baby flapped her chubby fists and kicked her little feet. In part to annoy Nancy, Dean stopped and crouched down next to the blanket. The baby was Lynn's, born a month and a half ago . Her name was Joy and secretly Dean thought she was the most adorable baby he'd seen since Sammy had been an infant. It made his heart clench to think that this child, his almost niece, had been born into a war torn world of constant death and danger. He reverently tickled her little belly, rubbing just the tips of his big fingers across her little pink and white jumper. Joy flapped her arms a little harder making her mother chuckle and Dean feel just a little younger than he had five minutes ago.

After Nancy had finished a long and boring report on provisions, Max and Mateo had reported on troop placement and Katie had reported on casualties and the injured. Lynn thanked them in turn and then addressed the table at large. "So, as you know, our plan to confront Lucifer two days ago, wasn't successful, so let's discuss what we need to do next and where we go from here." All eyes jumped towards Dean. Even though the elder Winchester knew that the failed plan to defeat Lucifer wasn't his fault, he felt a surge of guilt pulse through him.

"Before we move on, what exactly did happen?," asked Mateo. The soldier had been tasked with leading the attack that had served as a distraction to get Dean, Lynn and their team to Lucifer. Dean opened his mouth to speak but Lynn cut in.

"It didn't work. We tried, but we weren't able to reach Sammy. So, we need to make a new plan." Dean could see by the tightness in her jaw and the deep crease that marred her forehead that Lynn was upset but was trying to stay professional. He knew that Lynn felt responsible for Sam's ultimate betrayal and was taking their failure hard.

"Well," with a quick look of apology at Dean, Mateo spoke up. "I thought that the whole point of bringing Dean here was that he would be able to stop Lucifer?" There wasn't accusation in Mateo's voice, just the disappointment and confusion of a soldier whose orders had changed suddenly. Lynn took a deep breath and seemed about to defend their plan when Dean answered instead.

"The plan was that Lynn and I were to temporarily bind Lucifer and try to make a connection with Sam in the hopes that he could either expel or take control of Lucifer. We hoped that seeing me might give Sam something to fight with." Dean had to pause and chose his words carefully. He didn't want to hurt Lynn or share the cruel words that the devil had thrown at them. "But, either we weren't able to reach Sam, or Lucifer was too strong for him to overthrow." As close as he had grown to Lynn, the fact was that the Sam of this world had been very different than his own brother, weaker and adrift. As the group began to discuss options, Dean let his mind drift again.


	5. Chapter 5

A few weeks ago, just before Joy had been born, Lynn had told him the story. Stuck on bedrest after a medical scare, he'd visited her and asked about her version of the Winchester family. He remembered what she had told him vividly.

Lynn had been born between the two brothers and was less than a year younger than her brother Dean. When their mother had died in Sam's nursery fire, their father had left all three of his children in the care of his own mother before heading into a life of hunting and revenge. It wasn't until Grandma Millie had died that John had returned for his kids. After that, the life of the small Winchester family of this dimension had been similar in many respects with how Dean and Sam had been raised in their world. His counterpart Dean had been almost 10 when the three kids had joined John on the road. The stories Lynn had shared of living in crappy motels, cheap rentals and abandoned houses was very familiar to Dean. But it was the family dynamics that had been very different for Lynn's version of the family. Apparently John had left Lynn to care for and protect Sam while he took her Dean on hunts. He'd trained all three kids to be hunters, but Lynn was able to shield Sam from a lot more, for a lot longer. With two older siblings to pick up the slack and do their father's bidding, her version of Sam had lived an easier life than Dean's own little brother.

Dean had to laugh when Lynn described how stubborn and determined her Sam was. Apparently that trait was one that stayed true in both versions of their brother. But while Dean's brother had fought to escape hunting and had gone to Stanford in an ill-fated desire to have a normal life, Lynn had taken the initiative to get her kid brother out of the life. She had told Dean that she was worried that Sam would become like her Dean, hard and uncaring. He'd been skeptical, after all, the version of him from this world couldn't be that different from himself. And he was many screwed up things, but not uncaring towards his brother.

"I wish I could explain. The three of us had been pretty close. But when my Dean was almost 14, he went on a hunt with Dad while Sammy and I stayed back at the motel. I don't know what they were hunting or what happened, but when they came back, Dee was different. He stopped playing with Sammy and me, stopped joking and laughing, and barely talked to us. He barely talked at all. I tried to get him to tell me what was going on, but he denied that he had changed in any way. After that, he became obsessed with hunting. He trained for hours every day and Sam and I seldom saw him, except for meals. Dad was so proud, but I was really worried about Dean and Sammy. Sam was 10 and had really looked up to his big brother, but now he felt shut out and was hurt that Dean didn't seem to have time for him anymore. And Dad didn't help. He was always telling Sam that he needed to be more like Dean - but they were always very different, even before Dee changed." Lynn had sighed at this point, tears in her eyes as her shared her story.

"By 17, Dean was hunting full-time and spent weeks, then months away on jobs with Dad and other hunters. I tried hard to make it up to Sam, to provide him with a good life. Even though I was just 16, I was able to get a job with a fake ID at that point, and convinced Dad to let us stay in one city so that Sammy could go to school. Eventually, as I got older, I was able to get a better job, and I got us a real apartment. Sam got accepted into Kansas State to study Psychology. I'd finally built a stable life for Sam and I, and it was pretty good." Lynn had stopped then, a sad smile on her face.

Dean could only imagine how happy he and his Sam could have been if he'd been able to do that for the two of them. He had loved his Dad too much to leave him alone, knowing that the man would have self-destructed if his sons had both left him. But Lynn had had a different option. With her Dean hunting with their father, she was free to make a life for Sam and herself. Dean pushed aside the twinge of jealousy and what-might-have been. "What happened then," he asked, knowing from current circumstances that the Winchester curse had affected her family as much, if not more than it had his.

"It was 2005 Sam was just starting the final year of his degree. I had been in a relationship with Alex for a while by that point and we were talking marriage. Then Dad and Dee showed up with some wild story about Sammy being cursed by demons and destined for evil. We had a huge fight with Dad. He wanted us back on the road with him and Dean, but I put my foot down. Dad said that if we didn't go with him, that we were not his children anymore and to never contact him again." Dean could see the remembered pain in her eyes and wondered if her John Winchester was as volatile and as bad at talking about feelings as his own version of their father.

"After Dad stormed out, Dee pulled me aside and told me to keep an eye on Sammy and to be prepared to…" she had swallowed hard at this point. "To kill him when he started to turn evil. The whole experience really shook Sam. He was always such a sensitive kid and Dad's rejection and Dee's warning really hurt and frightened him." She sighed heavily. "I know I should have spent more time with him then, to help him cope, but I was young and in love. I was too selfish and blind to see that Sam was struggling. Alex and I got married in 2006 and moved in together. I wanted to believe that Sam was fine, enjoying his independence and being on his own for the first time without me taking care of him. It wasn't until he started having these massive, debilitating headaches that I realized something was wrong. Then Sammy dropped out of school, he broke up with his boyfriend, he started reading everything he could get his hands on about demons and Hell. Then he started hunting again and joined Dee on the road."

Dean could see Lynn struggle to lock down her emotions before she continued with what was obviously the worst part of her family history. Dean was sympathetic. If the timelines of their lives paralleled each other, it would only be few more years before she lost both her brothers. He studied his fingernails, giving the woman a moment to gather herself before she continued. Lynn rubbed her hand over her swollen belly and began again.

"Alex and I were so happy. We'd been trying for a baby, and we had a house. Alex's photography business was doing well. I dived right into normal - the only contact I had with my brothers was the occasional email or phone call. Then Dee showed up at the house." Lynn's pregnancy hormones had to have been playing havoc with her emotions, but Dean recognized in her face the deliberate stoicism that he'd seen in the mirror during his own dark times. She continued to speak.

"He told me that Sammy had murdered Dad and that Sam was coming to kill me too. Alex was out of town at a photoshoot, so I grabbed a few things and left with Dee. He took me to the house of an old hunter named Bobby Singer. Bobby's house was supposedly warded so that Sam couldn't find me, but after a day or two, he found us anyway." Lynn shifted in the bed, whether uncomfortable from the memories or the baby, Dean didn't know, but he was captivated by her story.

"Sammy told me that an angel had taught him to control the demon curse that had been put on him as as a baby. That the demon who killed Mom had possessed Dad and that was why he'd killed our father. Sam said that he was purified now and was that it was his destiny to be the vessel of a powerful angel. I thought he was in the middle of a mental breakdown until Dee tried to shoot him, and Sam was able to simply stop the bullet in mid air. Then Sammy flung Dee across the room into Bobby knocking them both out. As much as I loved my little brother, I didn't know what to think. He begged me to come with him, that together we could rule Heaven and Hell. He told me that his life at last had purpose and that he could finally take care of me and repay me for all the years that I took care of him." Dean could tell that she was lost in her memories, questioning her choices. Everyone wonders at some point if they made the right decision, but Dean had to reassure his quasi-sister.

"Hey, don't blame yourself. There were forces beyond your control at play here. What he was offering wasn't real." Lynn refocused on him and patted Dean's hand where it rested on the bed between them.

"I know." She gave him one of her warm smiles as she continued in a firmer voice. "As much as I wanted to go with Sammy to protect him, or save him or whatever, I knew things with Sam were out of control. He not only had these new powers, he seemed so confident, so full of purpose. But he'd killed our father, attacked our brother, and I couldn't be sure that he wasn't the puppet of some stronger force. Plus, I loved Alex and I couldn't leave the life we'd started together. I told Sammy that I loved him, but that I wanted no part in whatever he was doing." She sighed softly and her eyes grew soft and sparkled with unshed tears. "I remember that he smiled at me and caressed my cheek. Then he told me he was sad that it had to be that way, but that if either Dean or I tried to stop him, he would be forced to kill us. Then he got back in his car and left. That was the last time I saw him - well when he was still mostly himself." Lynn shook her head as if clearing away the bitter memory and patted Dean's hand again.

Dean had to ask, "So did Sam kill Dee?" Using Lynn's pet name for her older brother helped him to get some distance from the dead man who shared his name. It was hard enough to think of her version of Sam happily joining forces with Lucifer, but to think of Sam killing his brother...well it wasn't something he wanted to think about. He shook his head slightly to clear away that dark thought. Taking another deep breath, Lynn met his eyes and held them in her gaze. Her eyes had the same puppy-dog trick that Sam's did, they practically oozed love and affection.

"Yeah," she said sadly. "Dean called me just before he and Bobby went to try and stop Lucifer. He told me that Sam had agreed to let Lucifer possess him and that there was going to be this apocalyptic angel showdown at Stull cemetery. Dee thought that Sammy was beyond saving and that his only choice was to kill him before the angels destroyed the world. At the time, I didn't give a crap about the apocalypse or the angels. I only cared that my brothers were going to try and kill each other. So Alex and I jumped in the car to race there, but we didn't get within 10 miles of the cemetery. There was this crazy black smoke everywhere and people with oil black eyes running around. I know now that they were demons, but up until then, I'd never seen a possessed person. A few of them were starting to attack us when an angel showed up and killed them. He told us that his name was Castiel and that it was too late. Lucifer had already killed Dee and Bobby and we couldn't interfere in his fight with Michael. Then he put his fingers on our foreheads and poof - we were home again."

She looked tired, both emotionally and physically. Dean felt bad that he had asked her to share such painful memories when she was supposed to be resting. A soft knock on the door and Katie had stuck her head into the room. "Hey Lynn, how you holding up?," she had asked as she took her stethoscope from around her neck. Without waiting for a reply, she began to take Lynn's blood pressure. The redhead frowned as she took the reading and had given Dean a stern look. "Dean, Lynn really needs to rest right now." She softened her tone, "Melody has been driving me crazy, asking for one of your piggyback rides, do you think you could go amuse her for a few moments for me?" The hunter knew he was being shooed out of the room and given a gentle way out, so he smiled at both women.

"Sure Katie, I'll let you do your doctor thing and go find Mel." Looking at the woman in the bed, he could see that Lynn was already getting drowsy, the emotions of the last hour burning through her reserves. With a gentle squeeze of her hand, Dean said "You rest up Lynn, I want my sorta niece or nephew to be fully cooked before I meet 'em." He had left the room with a last saucy wink at the two woman, and wandered down the hall of the makeshift infirmary with way too much on his mind.

xxxxxxx

"Dean! Have you been listening." He dragged his thoughts back to the present, to find Nancy shooting him a pissed off look from across the table, while Max looked amused and Lynn looked concerned. Apparently he had zoned out while taking his trip down memory lane.

"Sorry, what?," he asked, not even sure who had called him back. Lynn repeated her question while Alex plunked a cup of coffee in front of him and laid a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Here, I think you need this. It's been a long night," Alex said quietly, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners. Dean had learned to appreciate his sort-of brother in law. The man was a deep thinker, intelligent, quiet and he seemed to notice everything. Alex was able to focus on the big picture and help get their rag-tag leadership team back on track when things got heated. His words were few but were thoughtful and his calm demeanor helped Dean manage his own impatience and frustration. For the hundredth time today, Dean missed Sam who also had the ability to calm him down and to think logically under pressure.

With that, Dean turned his attention back to the discussion, offering his thoughts on the strategies being debated. There would be time after this meeting to think about his family and worry about his brother in the privacy of his bunk.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam sat at one end of the bar. He was facing the entrance, nursing a drink as he waited for the after work crowd to morph into the regulars, the serious drinkers and those looking for a good time. Dean had had most of their cash on him when he got dragged into the portal, so Sam was there to hustle some pool or darts and earn enough to pay for a few more nights at the motel. He had a scammed credit card in his wallet, but it was too risky to use it for such a long stay.

The youngest Winchester stared into the amber depths of his glass, the sounds of the bar filling up barely registering. His mind was on Dean. Well, actually on all the times when Dean wasn't there. Sam seemed to only drink whiskey alone when his brother was dead or missing. He snorted a soft sardonic laugh as he thought about how frequently that had happened.

The first time Dean had died had been in Florida after that horrible time loop that Gabriel had tortured him with. Sam remembered kneeling in that damp parking lot, cradling Dean's body in his arms. He'd been so certain that he'd close his eyes and wake up again to that damn song and Dean's jaunty "Rise and Shine Sammy." But he hadn't. He remembered the pebbles under his knees, the damp January breeze on his face, and the strange feeling of Dean's muscles lax and limp under his hands. But he had almost no memory of the paramedics or police. He must have given someone Bobby's number at some point, because the grizzled hunter had arrived later that day and took Sam somewhere quiet and dim and then placed a double shot of whiskey in front of him. Bobby had done his best to help him, but Sam had been too angry, so determined to hunt down the bastard that had stolen Dean from him, that he'd distanced himself from the only person left who cared about him.

A lot of years had passed since then, but Sam still remembered the hunting machine he'd allowed himself to become. He had strictly ordered his life, giving into the cold fury in his gut in order to avoid his grief. He'd killed every evil thing he could, risking his life in a way that would have been called reckless if he hadn't been so efficiently and coldly driven. The only variance to that military, robotic life had been the whiskey he allowed himself each night. He hadn't let himself have too much, not wanting the warmth of the alcohol to dull his icy rage, but the booze had been the only thing that allowed him to catch some sleep during those dark months.

A shrill laugh from what looked like a bachelorette party roused Sam from his thoughts. He downed the rest of the glass that he had been swirling in his hand and signaled for another. It was a fine line that he walked. Sam knew that he had to be alert enough to successfully hustle, but the golden liquid helped release some of the tension he had been holding in his body since Dean had disappeared. While he waited for the bartender, he scanned the bar, looking for an appropriate mark. It was still a bit early, but Sam knew how to be patient. His thoughts drifted back to the dark days after the next time Dean had died.

If Sam had been a bundle of controlled fury for the 6 months before Gabriel had reversed the time loop, he was anything but controlled once the hellhound had dragged Dean to Hell. Thinking back, one of his greatest regrets came from how deeply he had crawled into the bottle once he and Bobby had buried his brother's body. It was a marvel that he hadn't died of alcohol poisoning back then. At the time he had felt completely adrift. He was afraid of who he had become back in Florida. And more importantly, he was tormented with guilt. He'd failed to save Dean, and knowing that the person he loved more than anyone or anything was suffering eternal torment because of him, to save his pathetic, undeserving ass...well it destroyed him. In his heart, he knew that if Ruby hadn't showed up when she did, that he would have either drank himself to death, gotten himself killed hunting drunk, or put his own gun in his mouth.

The bartender put a fresh glass in front of him with a thunk. The bar was filling up rapidly. Most of the tables were occupied now and the bachelorette party was in full swing, dancing and singing up a storm. Making eyes at the ladies, was a group of tough looking young men who were settling in at one of the pool tables at the back. Bingo. He watched the group in the mirror over the bar as he sipped his drink.

Dean was a master at hustling pool and had taught Sam his technique. Sam couldn't pull off Dean's good natured con. Dean could fleece anyone while pretending to be happily drunk. He'd charm his mark while flirting with the closest women and at the end, he'd walk away with several hundred dollars in his pocket and a half dozen phone numbers. That was assuming Dean didn't head out with some hot chick under his arm and a "Don't wait up, Sammy" tossed his way. Sam had to smile. He couldn't do that, he didn't have Dean's easy charm, but he'd been playing the wide-eyed newbie with wicked beginners luck since he was 16. He only wished his brother was there to watch his back and provide his usual color commentary on Sam's performance. Sam swallowed the last of his drink and slid off his stool towards the pool tables. He had a job to do.

A few games later, Sam was taking a break, waiting for his next mark to show up. He stepped up to the crowded bar and asked for a beer. All the stools were full, and he had to slightly lean over a petite woman to get his drink. He was about to go back to the pool tables when he felt a small hand grab onto his shirt. The girl he had leaned over had spun on her stool and was pulling him closer by his shirt, she slid her other hand underneath to stroke his stomach. She looked up at him with the glassy, unfocused eyes of someone who was one drink on this side of too many. "Oohhh….muscles" was all she said. Sam was instantly uncomfortable. He didn't like being touched at the best of times, much less being pawed by some drunk chick. Still he smiled tightly and pulled away, gently dislodging both her hands in one of his, making it clear he wasn't interested. He was about to go back to the pool tables when someone gripped his shoulder and spun him around.

The guy wasn't as tall or as big as Sam, but he was still a bulky guy. He wore a green polo shirt and a mean look on his face. "Whaddya think you're doing with my girlfriend?" The guy's face was flushed red from drinking, and his eyes were heavy and droopy, maybe from some other intoxicant. The last thing Sam needed was trouble.

"Sorry man, she grabbed me." Sam held his hands up, one still gripping his beer bottle. He didn't want to antagonize the guy. "She's all yours." Sam did little to hide his lack of interest in the girl. Green polo guy put one hand on Sam's chest, holding him in place while he snapped out his other beefy mitt and dragged the young woman off her stool.

"You telling me you don't think she's hot? 'Cause she's damn hot!," the guy said angrily shoving her up against Sam's body. The girl giggled, a sappy look on her face as she slumped against him. She was pretty in a lush, obvious way, dressed in a tight pair of jeans and a frilly tank top, but certainly not Sam's type, even if she wasn't drunk and taken. Sam just wanted to get out of this stupid situation, wishing again that Dean was here to help diffuse the situation.

"Um, sure. She's not my type, but you two make a cute couple," Sam tried to smile and extricate himself from the woman and her roving hands. He shoved her back towards the guy, eager to get away. He had barely used any force at all, as she wobbled on her high heels, but the girl looked hurt at his rough handling and turned her pout towards her boyfriend. The guy's hand had still been resting on Sam's chest, but he pulled it away as if we was burned.

"You some kinda faggot?," he glared, as if he'd discovered that Sam was poisonous. Green polo wiped his palm across his jean covered thigh and Sam saw his opening.

"Yeah, sure, that's it," the youngest Winchester said flippantly, tossing his words over his shoulder as he broke away from the pair and pushed his way back into the crowd. Sam made his way around the pool tables, being sure that the guy hadn't followed him. Agitated by his encounter with the annoying couple, he leaned against a wall and sipped his beer. One or two more games and he would have enough money to cover more than a week's expenses. Scoping out the pool players, Sam found a new target and turned his brain to studying the way his chosen mark played and the best way to hustle some more cash.


	7. Chapter 7

A few hours later Sam walked out of the smokey, steamy bar. He was eager to get back to the motel, grab a shower and try and get some sleep. As he turned the corner to the parking lot behind the bar he saw the belligerent guy and his girlfriend. Green-polo guy was sitting on the hood of the Impala, sneakers up on the bumper with the girl drunkenly slouched between his knees.

Rage flared deep in Sam's gut. Dean had only just finished fixing and restoring the car a couple of weeks ago after their encounter with the nachzehrer in Oregon. Dean had poured weeks of blood, sweat and colorful language into getting his beloved car, their home, back to prime condition. Sam couldn't do anything to protect his brother right now, but he'd sure as hell be damned before he let some arrogant asshole disrespect Dean's Baby. With his blood boiling and fists clenched Sam almost didn't hear the soft crunch of gravel behind him.

Sam ducked and twisted away with speed and reflexes developed since childhood. Even so, the broken fence post clipped his jaw digging into his face and rattling his teeth. He could feel the wetness of blood as it began dripping down his face. Trying to keep an eye on the guy with the post, Sam saw another figure running towards him from his left. Using the runner's momentum against him, Sam tumbled easily and flung the thug into the front of a pick-up truck parked nearby.

Sam rolled back onto his feet. Thug number one swung the post at his head again. This time Sam ducked and struck out with a long leg. His foot made a satisfying crunch against the guy's knee. Sam grabbed the post and tossed it away as the man howled and crumpled to the ground clutching his knee. Thug number two climbed back to his cowboy booted feet and pushed off of the truck.

"Fucking fag," he grunted as he tried to take Sam's head off with a haymaker. Sam twisted to avoid the swing, then stepped inside and delivered a crushing hook to the guy's ribs. Cowboy lurched away, arm wrapped around his torso.

The first guy, blonde hair dirty from his time on the ground, limped to his feet. The two brawlers looked at the shadows to Sam's left. A big guy dressed in a plain black T-shirt and black jeans stepped out from the darkness. A snick of a switchblade drew Sam's attention from Cowboy and Blondie.

Black-Tee smiled like a predator about to eat. The guy shifted his hold on the knife with an easy familiarity. Unlike the other two attackers, this one had the lithe grace of a well trained fighter.

"Todd here tells me that you like screwing boys," said Black-Tee. Todd apparently was Green-polo, who slid off of the Impala, eager to watch, leaving the girl slumped against the hood. Black-Tee continued "We don't like your kind around here. And so Darren, Pete and I thought we'd come and..," He paused with another creepy grin, "make sure we see eye to eye." With that the four men spread out, trying to circle Sam while cutting off any escape.

Sam considered going for his Taurus that was tucked into the back of his jeans, but these guys were humans. Sick, homophobic, violent humans, but still, Sam was sure he could handle them. In fact, he almost welcomed this fight as a distraction from his worry about Dean. It would be good outlet for some of his frustration. He focused on the knife wielding fighter who was the most dangerous of the four. Exhaling a deep breath, Sam stilled. It had always been like that, when push came to shove Sam could feel a certain cold clarity come over him, calming his heartbeat and sharpening his focus. Fear, pain and every other feeling got pushed to the background and a fight became clear, a simple matter of strategy, technique and training.

Cowboy, whose real name was Darren made the first move. He charged at Sam, landing a couple of punches to the hunter's ribs. Sam absorbed the blows until he had the opening he needed. With a vicious uppercut, he smashed his fist into Darren's chin. The man dropped like a stone.

Pete came from behind and grabbed both of Sam's arms. Sam slammed his head into the blonde man's face, then slid a foot behind and flipped him over his hip. The hunter followed the young man to the ground and punched him in the face. A sharp burn surged to life in Sam's side as he felt a blade slice the skin.

Sam rolled away from Black-Tee's knife and onto his feet. Sam jumped away from the next knife thrust. Then, using his longer reach, he stepped inside and blocked the next swing. Sam drove his hand into Black-Tee's elbow, but the fighter ignored the disarming move and transferred the knife into his other hand. Sam leapt out of the way as the knife missed his throat by inches.

"You've got some skills pervert, but you won't be the first homo I've gutted." The black clad man seemed excited by the thought of killing. Sam could feel the blood run down his side to be absorbed into the denim of his jeans.

"Dale," Todd called to the man holding the knife. "Uh, I think he's learned his lesson...let's get out of here."

"No way. I'm going to enjoy killing this long-haired fairy. So shut up." Dale barked at Todd, but grinned at Sam, a crazed glint in his eyes. But his grin seemed to fade when Sam failed to react to either his insult or his threat. Dale lunged with a feint towards Sam's bleeding side, but pivoted and tried to drive the knife into Sam's chest. Grabbing Dale's wrist in his larger hand, Sam redirected the knife. Sam plunged his fingers into Dale's throat. The man instinctively reached for his neck, suddenly unable to breath. Using this advantage, Sam forced his arm behind and up until Dale was on his knees. Sam wrenched the knife away and flung it into the scrub growing beside the parking lot. With a hard shove, he pushed Dale to the ground, driving his own knee into the man's back.

"You homophobic asshole," Sam ground out between clenched teeth. "Be glad I don't beat the living shit out of you. If you ever even think of trying this kind of bullshit again on anyone again, I will find you and I will end you." Sam growled his threat into the prone man's ear, letting every ounce of his icy dangerous anger leech into his voice. Sam pushed himself to his feet. Dale started to stir so Sam kicked him hard in the ribs. Sam turned to look at Todd who had his hands up and was looking at the tall hunter with awe and terror warring on in his expression.

"Hey man, I didn't know they'd go so crazy." Todd backed away from Sam's malevolent glare. Darren and Pete had stumbled upright by this point, but seemed disinclined to attack again. Sam took a calming breath and just like water, his frustrations and worries, and the pain of his injuries flooded back into focus. He was tired, sweaty and bleeding, and all he wanted to do now was get back to the motel.

Sam walked towards the impala and with restraint, moved the limp girl onto the hood of the next parked car. Opening the driver's door, he gave his attackers a deadly serious look. "Stay the fuck away from my car." With that, Sam got in, started the engine and drove past the four men, spitting gravel in his wake.

xxxxxxx

With a weariness that felt bone deep, Sam dragged himself into the motel room. He'd brought the first aid kit in from the trunk and he laid it on Dean's bed. Although his brother hadn't slept in it for almost ten days, the sheets and blanket were still scrunched up, just as his brother had left it the morning he'd been taken. Sam couldn't bring himself to straighten the covers or to use Dean's bed for more than a temporary surface. His bed, in contrast was neatly made with precision hospital corners that gave the bedding an austere look. Sam knew that was a sign that he was slipping. He had felt it tonight during the fight….the cold, frozen rage that had settled over him. The crisp, sharp fury that numbed out all the other feelings, the single emotion that allowed him to function despite his anxiety over Dean. He remembered that soul deep chill from the first time Dean had died and it frightened him. Without his brother, keeping him sane and human, it was shockingly easy for Sam to let himself become someone terrible, someone willing to do anything, kill anyone to get Dean back.

Sam went to scrub his knuckles into his tired eyes, but stopped when he saw the blood and dirt smeared into the broken skin. Pushing aside the fatigue, he went into the tiny bathroom and washed his hands and face. He stared at himself in the spotty mirror. His left eye was red and slightly swollen with a bruise starting to form just below on his damaged cheek. The wooden post had cut a long gouge into his face. Now that the blood was wiped away, he could tell that it wasn't deep, but it stung and would need some antiseptic ointment and some butterfly bandages to prevent infection and scarring. Blood had soaked into his blue flannel, so he pulled it off gingerly, the fabric clinging to the drying blood. The grey t-shirt underneath was a write off, so he simply peeled it off and tossed it into the garbage can. The knife wound on his side was still bleeding sluggishly. The cut wasn't too long, but it was deep enough to need stitches.

Sam had to smile. Dean would have have been cursing him soundly for getting hurt, even as his fingers gently probed the wound. Then his brother would have pushed him down on the bed and insisted on sewing it up, refusing to have his own injuries treated until it was done. Sam's emotions surged and he felt a lump in his throat at Dean's innate caring. His big brother had literally been taking care of him in every way possible for as long as Sam could remember.

Thinking of Dean was dangerous if he wanted to keep functioning, so he pushed the thoughts away. He still had a whole day before the portal would open. Moving back towards the beds, he sat down and dug through the first aid supplies for a suture kit and began patching himself up.

Later, as he lay in bed Sam tried to ignore the throbbing in his face and side enough to get a few hours sleep. But his mind had other plans. He kept circling back to the terrifying thought that he would never see Dean again. During the long days of waiting, he'd tried hard to remain positive. But here, in the dark, hurting and alone in a room that was meant for two, he couldn't hold back the tears. Ashamed at his weakness, he burrowed his face into the pillow. All he could think about was his life with his brother. The little things, like the way Dean teases him about girls, or his hair or his love of salad. The bigger things, like how Dean cares for Sam's injuries, sometimes at the expense of his own, or the way Dean still puts himself between danger and his kid brother. The important things that speak to family, like the feel of Dean's supportive hand on his shoulder or the back of his neck, green eyes full of compassion. Sam knew he couldn't live this life without Dean. It was hard to imagine living any kind of life without his brother. He tried hard, but exhausted beyond resisting, Sam cried like a child into his pillow until he finally fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean stood silent and still amid the bustle of activity. On one side of the room, the coven was setting up for the ritual that would open the portal. The witches were quiet, focused despite the noise and confusion around them. People, most of them armed, were coming in and out in a steady stream, reporting for duty, asking for orders or just because they didn't know where else to go. The constant harassment from Lucifer's forces was wearing down the little community. The demon forces had been launching steadily stronger attacks against the compound, and a few minutes ago another group of hellspawn had begun attacking. In the distance Dean could hear the faint sounds of battle. Gunfire, and the gut wrenching baying of Hellhounds. That sound still made his blood run cold. But he wasn't afraid. It was indecision that kept him apart from everyone.

On the other side of the room, Lynn, Alex and some of the squad commanders were huddled around the table, talking animatedly over diagrams and papers spread around. Everyone was tense. Alex had an assault rifle slung over his shoulder and he had a small black bag at his feet. Lynn had a revolver tucked into the back of her jeans and another handgun on the table. Dean looked at his would-be sister and brother-in-law as he tried to wrestle his thoughts into submission.

What was he supposed to do? In the time he had spent with Lynn and Alex, and the rest of this community of survivors, he had grown to respect and care about these people. Lynn, Alex and Joy were family. They needed him and every fighter he had trained. It felt disloyal to even consider leaving them to their precarious fate, like he was shirking his duty when he was needed most. Lucifer was practically knocking on their door and it didn't look good.

But on the other hand, it had been almost a year since he'd seen Sam or even heard his brother's voice. When Sam had been at Stanford, Dean had at least swung by whenever he could to lay eyes on the kid. Now? Hell he didn't even know if Sam was alive anymore. The need to get back to Sammy was like an itch under his skin that over the months here, he had learned to ignore. But it never really went away. His stomach churned with both longing and guilt. He needed to get back to Sam, but how could he leave the people who needed him. What was he supposed to do?

"Dean," Lynn asked, reaching out to touch his arm. Dean startled, mentally kicking himself for being so lost in his inner turmoil that he didn't hear Lynn approach. He looked at her and she gave him a piercing look, a trick that she shared with his brother. Sometime it felt like Sammy could read his mind when he gave Dean that look, and Lynn was the same.

"No Dean, we're doing this," Lynn insisted, raising her voice a bit to be heard over the noise. "You need to get back to your own world, to your Sam," she said passionately. Alex had stepped up behind her and gave him a firm nod that let Dean know that he agreed with his wife. "Look, I know you feel guilty, but don't be. We wouldn't be nearly as well prepared if it hadn't been for you," said Lynn. She tugged on Dean's arm and stared into his face, obviously waiting for him to reply. Just as he opened his mouth, there was a huge boom, and Dean found himself clutching the wall and Lynn to try and keep them both on their feet. As the shaking stopped, Lynn turned back towards the table.

"What was that?" She gave Dean's arm a final squeeze and made her way back to the table full of war plans. Dean followed at a distance, curious and anxious. A young soldier, skidded into the room, and scanned the crowd. His face was white and he was covered with dust and blood. Spotting Lynn, he approached and came to attention in front of her. His eyes seemed too big in his pale face.

"What happened? Report, Thomas," Lynn demanded. Dean recognized the steel of command in her voice that reminded him forcefully of his father.

"Lynn, it's the east wing….it's,... it's gone," the soldier stammered, out of breath and visibly shaking. "There was this huge, white, fireball….and now the whole wing is gone, just vaporized…" his voice faded out and he brought a bloody hand up to cover his mouth at the horror of his own words. Lynn gasped and staggered herself, blindly reaching back for her husband.

"What?, how can it all be gone," asked Alex breathlessly, the colour draining from his face at this news. The east wing was used as their field hospital and had been full of people. Including Joy and the other children who had been gathered there in what they figured was the safest place for them during the battle. Dean felt his stomach lurch, sick and horrified as he absorbed what he had heard.

"Wait, what about Joy, and Melody and Katie," Lynn asked desperately, her voice rising, the commanding tone replaced by the lost sound of a mother clutching at straws. The dusty young man shook his head and let a sob break free.

"They're gone, everyone is gone, there's nothing there but a hole," he cried brokenly. Thomas turned, not waiting to be dismissed and stumbled away.

Dean slumped, hands against the table to hold himself up and fought to control his emotions. Joy, the children and all those people, dead. It broke his heart thinking about what a massive blow Lucifer had just delivered. He glanced up, but wished he hadn't. Alex, usually stoic and calm, looked wrecked. His head was bowed and tears streamed down his face. Alex's chest heaved as he gripped his chair with white knuckles in an obvious effort to stay on his feet. Dean looked at Lynn, expecting her to be even more devastated, but she seemed to be staring into the distance, eyes wet and clouded with an intense sorrow that hurt to look at. Lynn dragged a sleeve across her face and closed her eyes for a moment. Then, with a breath, she visibly straightened and squared her shoulders. Lynn was in command, and emotions would have to wait. She turned back to Dean and clenched her jaw.

"C'mon," she said, her voice brooking no argument. "It's almost time, get a move on." And with that Lynn turned and made her way across the room where the coven was setting up. Alex just sighed and wiped the tears off his face. He picked up the black duffle bag and followed them to the magical semi-circle. Dean pushed off the table and followed too, his own face wet as he tried to process the loss of his baby niece and the friends he had known that were in the field hospital. Katie and Melody were gone too.

"Lynn, wait," Dean called. His sister glanced over her shoulder at him, but refused to meet his eyes. The three stepped over the lit candles and painted symbols and Dean grabbed her arm. "I can't go. Not now, we need to -" Lynn cut him off.

"No Dean, you need to go home," she said firmly before she yanked her arm out of his grip. "I'm not losing you too." At that she finally did meet Dean's eyes and he knew that she needed this. That keeping him safe was all that was keeping her going. Dean recognized that look, having seen it in the mirror more than once. Alex put a hand on her shoulder and she turned towards her husband as she shrugged it off. "I'm Ok, Alex," she lied.

Dean had to be within the semi-circle before they painted the final symbols. Once the coven closed him into the marked area, there was no leaving it until the symbols were removed. Back on other side of the room, the large table had been moved aside. The injured were beginning to make their way here and other people were doing their best to treat them with makeshift supplies. The head witch, a woman named Kiki of all things, signaled Dean to come over. Dean had originally had difficulty trusting the coven, but they had proven loyal beyond fault to Lynn, so he had eventually learned to live with them. Crouching down to hear the woman over the noise, she gripped his arm, then shifted her jacket, exposing a vest of explosives.

"If things go bad, we're closing the portal permanently once you're gone. No way is Lucifer going to be able to follow you." She smiled grimly. "Just so you know." Dean was shocked, but he looked towards the other witches to see if they knew about Kiki's plan. As his eyes went around to the other six members of the coven, they all gave him a solemn nod, and two others showed their own suicide vests. He turned back to Kiki and put his hand over hers that was still holding his arm.

"Thanks," Dean said, trying to convey the depth of his respect and gratitude in the one small word. Kiki nodded, then let go and went back to her symbols and preparations. Dean joined Lynn and Alex again. As devastated as he was at the loss of Joy and the others, his sorrow was nothing in comparison to theirs, and he knew they must be trying to push their pain away for his sake. It was time to say his goodbyes.

"Lynn," Dean began. "I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"Don't" she said through clenched teeth, obviously trying to keep it together. "We don't know that she's gone for sure yet." She sniffed and drew herself up again. Dean just nodded.

"Look, I want you to know that if I could be in two places, I'd stay. You two are family," Dean said, stopping before his own emotions got ahead of him. Dean sucked at this touchy feely stuff. He could never find the right words. "Anyway, it's time, you gotta go," he finished softly when he was sure his voice would be steady.

Alex shoved the black bag into his hands. "Here's some stuff I want you to have. Just photos and things." Then the soft spoken man stuck out his hand. Dean shook it, but then hauled the man in for a rough hug. When they broke apart a moment later, Alex just clapped Dean's shoulder. He stood with the back of his hand across his mouth trying to pull himself together as Lynn stepped forward.

"So, you take care of yourself Dean," she said in a slightly shaky voice. "Take care of Sam. And maybe you can tell him about us one day." At that her tears started to flow again and she stepped into Dean's arms. He buried his face in her hair and held her tightly, feeling a tear of his own escape. After a long moment, he put his hand on her shoulder, and pushed her away very gently. He leaned in and kissed her forehead before letting her go completely. Clearing his throat, he forced a smile. She smiled back and caressed his cheek briefly, then Alex pulled Lynn towards the edge of the semi-circle and they stepped beyond the symbols. Kiki finished the last one and the air shifted with the subtle shimmer of the powerful magic. Dean shouldered the bag Alex had given him and got ready for the portal to open.

Suddenly there was another blast that shook the building. The sounds of gunfire and screams grew loud outside the room, and partially drowned out the chanting that the witches had begun. One of the guards at the main door dropped and everyone inside the room raised their weapons. The doors burst open and about a dozen demons pushed into the room.

"Stop him!" one of the demons screamed pointing at Dean before a round of anti-demon bullets took him down. But more demons poured into the room and rushed the people inside. Dean pulled his own gun, but wasn't able to do more than watch from inside the protective magic. He strained to find Lynn and Alex in the melee that was happening in front of him, but he couldn't spot them in the mess of combatants. Dean could feel the electricity behind him, building to create the portal.

The screaming increased as the battle grew even more violent. Dean's heart was pounding and he paced the semi-circle, feeling angry and helpless. From near the doorway, he heard Mateo's voice shout. "He's here, he's here," before his friend's voice was cut off in a cry of agony. Panic seemed to grip the room. The steady voices of the witches the only noise that hadn't been amplified. Abruptly, everything grew quiet and still, everyone was shoved against the walls, or to the floor. Dean recognized the demonic force that was holding people frozen. Slowly, the demons climbed to their feet grinning and leering at the humans still pinned in place. Then a man walked through the doors.

It was Lucifer. Even though Dean knew it wasn't Sam, it wasn't really even this world's Sam, it still made his stomach turn to see that familiar face. With a flick of his long fingers, bodies slid across the floor leaving an open path for the devil and his entourage to enter. Lucifer had his "toys" with him, a young man and a teenaged girl who he kept on leather leashes. Sweeping the room with a glance, Lucifer found Lynn among the humans pinned against the wall. With another wave of his hand, he flung her forward to land on her knees at his feet.

"Hello sister," Lucifer said with a sneer. "So good to see you again."

"Go to Hell Lucifer," Lynn spat. Dean admired her defiance even as he cursed the magical barrier. It kept him from being pinned too, but it meant he could do nothing to help his sister.

"Oh sis, I was there," Lucifer said airly. "It was fun for a while. I redecorated, had a couple of orgies, killed a few demons...it was amusing for a while, but I'm bored now. So I thought I'd pay you and dear Dean a little visit. I hear you have a door to a whole new playground." With that Lucifer and Lynn both looked towards the portal that Dean could feel forming behind him. Dean shot a glance at Kiki, who was still chanting. He saw her stealthily pull the small switch that was connected to the explosives from an inner pocket.

"Oh look, I'm just in time. Dean, Dean, Dean," Lucifer said in mock admonishment. "Did you really think I'd let you leave?" Lucifer chuckled and strolled closer to the barrier. In his peripheral vision, Dean could see one of the witches tremble as the coven fought to keep the barrier intact. Dean stood staring at the evil son of a bitch wearing Sam's face. Lucifer was dressed in what looked like tailored, black silk pajamas.

"So what's up with the leisure suit, asshole?," Dean taunted, hoping to buy the coven the few extra minutes they needed to complete the spell and open his ticket home.

"Oh this?" Lucifer languidly gestured to his clothes. "Well one does like to be comfortable when travelling."

"You're not going anywhere," shouted a ringing voice. Lucifer spun around. Angels had appeared behind him, headed by Michael and Castiel. Michael spoke again. "We are going to finish this, once and for all brother. I will not let you bring your poison to another world." Lucifer heaved an exaggerated sigh.

"Fine, if you insist brother, but let's make it snappy, I have a portal to catch." And with that Lucifer flung a ball of flames at the party of angels. Dean, and the humans who could move shielded their eyes, some jumped out of the way. When he could see again, Dean could tell that Michael and the angels were unharmed, but Lynn, who had been on the floor between them, toppled over. She had been in the direct line of fire and her body was like a pillar of ash. Dean barely had a chance to gasp in horror, heard Alex scream his wife's name.

The agonized scream was like a switch flipping the battle that had been suspended back into action. The angels leapt at the demons and the humans were released from their supernatural freeze frame. Within seconds the room was filled with smoke and screams and the sounds of death. A stray bullet hit the shoulder of Mark, one of the witches, and he fell forward. The rest of the coven raised their voices as he struggled to right himself. Dean glanced behind him to see the portal swell from a small blue circle to the full sized door of light.

"Dean - Now!" hissed Kiki. She hovered her thumb over the trigger device. With a final look of gratitude and regret for the witch, Dean hitched the black bag higher on his shoulder and jumped through. He could feel the heat on his back and felt the shockwave slam into him and push him forward before he stumbled to his feet in the dark school room.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam stood at the window watching the sun go down, casting a warm orange glow around the disheveled classroom. He had made his decision this morning when he had packed up their gear. The motel room was paid up for another week, but if Dean didn't re-appear right away, Sam was going to enter the portal and find his brother, so he'd stowed all their stuff. Anything he didn't need or couldn't carry in one bag had been locked into the trunk of the Impala. He'd also left a note for Jody in the car. I wouldn't have been right for both him and Dean to disappear, maybe forever, without saying a final goodbye. Jody was a good friend who kept in touch regularly and actually cared about Sam and Dean for more than their hunting skills. In fact other than Cas, she was one of the few people that Sam considered family. The angel would make sure Jody got it.

Thinking about Cas, Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket. As the last rays of the setting sun disappeared and the room became swathed in shadows, he realized he couldn't put it off any longer. He'd spent much of the afternoon pacing, trying to think of what to say to the friend who was like another brother to him, but now time was running short. Sam didn't want to jump through that portal in search of Dean without talking to the angel. He pushed number 2 on his speed dial and waited for Cas to pick up.

"Hello Sam," Cas's gravelly voice rumbled across the line.

"Hey Cas." Now that Cas had answered, all of Sam's carefully prepared words flew out of his head. "Um, how are you feeling?," Sam stalled squeezing the bridge of his nose to try and control his emotions.

"I am still healing, but I'm feeling much better than I was," Cas paused and his tone changed to one of concern. "What's wrong Sam? I've been sensing your distress for a while now. Where is Dean?" Funny, how the angel could so quickly cut to the heart of the matter. Sam had forgotten that even when he didn't pray to Cas directly, the angel could still sense what he had once described as longing.

"Well, that's the thing Cas, Dean's gone." Sam tried to suppress the waver that crept into his voice. He took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. "He got taken through a portal to another world, and.." Cas cut him off.

"What? When? Where are you?," the angel demanded.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said, ignoring Cas's questions. "Look, most likely he will be back tonight, and we'll be home soon. But if he isn't…" Sam took another steadying breath. "Then I'm going to go through the portal and find him. So, uh, if you don't hear from me by tomorrow, I'll need you to come pick up the car. I'll text you the location."

"What are you talking about Sam? Why would I need to….." Sam could almost hear Cas thinking as his friend put two and two together. "Wait - you don't think you'll be returning if you go in search of Dean, do you Sam?" The tall hunter dragged a hand across the back of his neck. He didn't know how to answer that. He had no idea what was going on in the other world that Dean had been dragged into. If Dean didn't return, he was afraid to think about what that could mean. But there was no way he could continue to sit on his ass and hope and pray that his brother came back. He had to do something.

"I don't know Cas. I hope so, but I just know that I've got to find Dean," Sam said. He wasn't going to rest until he found his brother. He'd made that mistake before, assuming that Dean was gone and at peace, when really he was fighting for his life in Purgatory. Not looking for his brother was one of the biggest regrets in his life and he wasn't about to make that mistake again. "Look Cas," Sam struggled to find the words to tell the angel how much he meant to him. "I just want to thank you for everything you've done for me, man. You've been like a …"

"Stop Sam," ordered Cas, sounding a bit like Dean as he cut Sam off again. "Tell me where you are, let me help you. We can find Dean together." Sam shook his head, even though Cas couldn't see the action over the phone.

"I can't. Someone has to stay and try to stop Amara. There isn't anyone else who can do that." Sam felt so torn. If he went in search of Dean, he would be leaving Cas to clean up the mess that Sam had made. A mess that could end the world. But if he didn't go...well that would be the end of his world. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right to dump this on the angel, but in a choice between Dean and the world...well for Sam there was no choice.

"Sam, don't do this. We can figure out another solution." The angel paused and Sam could visualize how he threw out his arm in exasperation and how his blue eyes would be stormy with emotions Cas still wasn't comfortable in expressing. "What am I going to do without you both." Sam was a little surprised at how forlorn Cas sounded. He closed his eyes, his heart aching for Cas.

"Just...just remember everything we taught you, and do your best. Our friend Jody will help you. "I'm sorry…" Sam couldn't think of anything else to say. The whole situation sucked. He prayed that Dean came through that portal and he wouldn't have to leave his friends behind to carry on alone. "Bye Cas," he said and ended the call before he lost his nerve and begged Cas to come help him.

He punched in the information Cas would need to get the car, but held off on sending the text. Sam knew that without his full angel mojo, Cas would have to drive and it would take him at least 9 hours to get here. He didn't want to have his friend start the journey if Dean came back. Sam went back to pacing around the room. It was fully dark now and the gloomy shadows perfectly reflected his mood. Sam absently scratched at the bandages on his face. His head ached, his side ached and all the forced inactivity was driving him crazy. A constant litany of "please come back, please come back, please come back" ran through Sam's head.

A couple of hours later, a low hum snapped Sam back to attention. Quickly he pulled out his phone and sent the text to Cas. It felt horribly inadequate and he hated how he'd left things with the angel, but he was determined to find Dean or die trying. Sam shouldered the bag of gear and supplies he'd packed and readied himself in front of where the portal was beginning to form.

The blue oval hummed and buzzed as it sprung into existence. First as a small circle of light, then with a loud pop, it grew into a larger oval, similar to the size the portal had been when Dean's message had come through. Then the oval grew and elongated into the full size door of blue light that they had originally seen 10 days ago. Sam held his breath and counted. He would give Dean 30 seconds to appear before jumping into the light himself.

As he counted down, Sam gripped the bag tighter and got ready to move. Suddenly Dean appeared. Sam only had a split second to recognize his brother before they were both blown off their feet. A violent explosion of heated air blasted through the portal. Sam pushed off the floor enough to watch as the portal seemed to heave outward then disappeared with a sudden pop. The resulting silence felt flat on his ears as he struggled to his feet.

"Dean," he called tentatively. An afterimage of the portal played tricks on his eyes in the dark room. Had he imagined that he'd seen his brother come through?

"Don't move!," came a gruff command from behind him. Relief flooded him as he recognized Dean's voice. Very slowly he turned around. Dean was in a combat ready stance, pistol firmly in his hands, pointed at Sam. The younger man carefully raised his hands to show that they were empty, but took a step towards Dean

"Dean, it's me, Sam." He couldn't really see Dean's face in the dark room, but Sam moved forward again, making a point to step into the weak light that shone through the window. As his own face was illuminated, Sam could see Dean lower the gun a little bit.

"Sammy?," Dean asked. His brother's body language was still alert, but Dean's voice was filled with cautious hope.

"Yeah man, it's me." Sam simply stood and smiled at Dean. He knew that he probably looked like a grinning fool, but he was so happy to see his brother, that he didn't care. Dean dropped the bag he was carrying, then he lowered the gun, and tucked it into a pocket, his eyes never leaving Sam's face. With a few short steps he was across the room to Sam. Dean slung his arm around Sam's neck and pulled him into a hug.

Surprised at Dean's action, Sam just hugged back as hard as he dared. It wasn't often that the Winchester code allowed such open affection. He half expected Dean to shove him away after a few seconds and make a wisecrack, but his older brother just gripped him tight. Sam could feel Dean tremble slightly in his arms.

"Are you Ok," he said, his voice muffled in Dean's shoulder. Dean just shuddered and Sam felt his brother slump a little harder against him. He slid his hand down Dean's back to support his weight when he felt warm, sticky, wetness. Gripping Dean's biceps, he gently leaned back, trying to see the older man's face. In the moonlight, Dean seemed pale and despite the warm smile on his face, a little out of it. Dean's eyes were a bit glassy.

"I think you're bleeding, Dean," Sam said wanting to get his brother to focus on him. Confusion and pain clouded Dean's expression and he took a step back.

"No, I'm not," Dean said, absently patting himself with his hands. "I'm just a little dizzy from the jump." Then, without warning, Dean crumpled, barely catching himself on a nearby overturned desk. With a low grunt, he struggled to get back to his feel. Sam sprung to his brother's side to help him. Hearing a dripping noise, Sam glanced down and could see a small pool of blood forming at Dean's feet. Sam's heart began to race. If there was enough blood to puddle, then Dean was obviously injured pretty badly.

Sam dug his flashlight out of the pocket of his coat and aimed it at Dean's back. The older hunter's jacket was shredded and Sam could see a variety of pieces of wood and other shrapnel sticking out. Blood was running pretty freely, soaking Dean's pants, but Sam didn't want to pull loose the fabric of Dean's jacket or shirts to explore the problem further. He needed to get Dean out of here and get him patched up. He'd just gotten Dean back, he wasn't about to lose his brother to blood loss now. Pulling his own jacket off, he quickly peeled off his flannel and wrapped it around the injured area. Dean gasped in pain, even though Sam was careful not to press, wary of pushing the debris further into Dean's body.

Leaving Dean clinging to the table, Sam quickly picked up both their bags and slung them over one shoulder. With his other he methodically inched his way under Dean's arm so that he could help guide his brother to the car. Stumbling like two old men, Sam guided them out of the school. He'd actually parked the car a couple of blocks away where it would cause less suspicion until Cas picked it up. "Dean, I'm gonna get the car, just wait here," he said as he directed the older man to a low wall. His brother reached out and grabbed Sam's jacket.

"No," Dean grunted. "I can make it." He tightened his grip on Sam's coat and Sam could feel Dean try and take on more of his own weight. But Sam could see by the distant street light, that the blood had begun to soak through the flannel he'd tied around Dean's body. Sam manhandled Dean to the wall and lowered him gingerly, not wanting to cause him more pain. He crouched down in front of his brother to see his face.

"It's too far Dean, and you're bleeding. I'll be right back," he said. Sam didn't want to leave him, but there was no way Dean could walk that far in his condition. "Just stay here." Sam went to turn away, but Dean snaked a hand out and took his wrist. His fingers were cold against Sam's skin. Sam looked down into the pale face that he had thought he'd lost forever. He'd expected a glassy look as his brother's body fought to cope with the injuries and blood loss, but he didn't expect the deep sadness he saw in Dean's eyes. Sam tenderly patted the hand on his wrist with his own larger one before gently pulling his arm from Dean's grip. Dropping the bags, he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it across Dean's bowed shoulders.

"Five minutes, I swear, I'll be right back," he said fervently. Reluctantly he turned and began to run the few blocks. He made record time, slid into the driver's seat and, drove the Impala back towards the school as if it was stolen. As he pulled into the parking lot, he could see Dean hunched over, but still mostly upright. He brought the car as close as was safe. Jumping out, he quickly tossed their bags into the passenger seat and then with a firm grip, maneuvered his brother into the back seat where he could lay on his front. Peeling out, Sam raced back to the motel, one eye on the road, and other on his brother. Dean was far too still, but Sam could hear his heavy breathing.


	10. Chapter 10

Back at the motel, Sam pulled Dean out of the car and almost dragged him into the room. Dean was limp, and pliant, a completely unnatural state for his larger than life big brother. Sam lowered Dean onto the bed he'd last slept in 10 days ago and snapped on every light in the room. He ran back out to the car and grabbed the first aid kit, leaving their bags for now. Rushing back and setting up beside his brother, he was ready to take a closer look at Dean's back.

"So, I'm gonna have to cut off your jacket and shirts, Ok?" A muffled grunt was all Sam got, but he took it for a yes. He pulled out the scissors and gingerly slid them between the fabric and the cool skin over Dean's ribs. Slicing through three layers was difficult and Sam felt badly every time Dean hissed or moaned into the pillow. "Almost there," Sam said as he snipped through the thicker fabric of the jacket's collar. He noticed that Dean's clothes were pretty threadbare and well worn, as if he'd only had the one outfit to wear. Stopping first to get a bowl of warm water and all the hand towels from the bathroom, Sam got to his knees beside the bed and began to peel off the denim and cotton from his brother's back.

Finally getting the clothes off the older man, Sam had to suck in a breath. Dean was thin. Oh he was still muscular, but he was thinner than Sam had ever seen Dean before. He carefully wiped away as much blood as he could from the area with a damp towel. There were pieces of wood and other debris embedded in Dean's back, but luckily nothing seemed too deep, except for one ragged cut below his left ribs. That seemed to be where all the blood was coming from. He laid a hand on Dean's upper back to get his attention.

"Dean, I'm going to have to stich this one up, it's pretty deep. Do you want some pain meds before I get started?" Sam asked, in part to spare his brother and in part because Dean was very quiet. And Dean didn't do quiet unless things were bad. His brother turned his head to free his mouth from the pillow but kept his eyes squeezed shut against the lights.

"Head hurts, might have a concussion, so just get it done," Dean said roughly. Sam pulled out a suture kit, wiped the area down with some disinfectant swabs and began to sew shut the bloody wound. Dean's body was taut with tension and pain, so as he worked Sam tried to distract his brother.

"Uh, thanks for the note last week. I was pretty worried when you didn't come through the portal," said Sam in a low voice. Dean just grunted into the bedding. "So, I cleaned all our weapons including your Taurus, did our laundry and detailed the car," Sam chuckled a little. "It was pretty boring without you around. I, uh, talked to Cas earlier tonight, but I told him one of us would call him when you were back." Sam didn't bother to mention his whole plan to jump into the portal and leave Cas with the car and the responsibility to track down the Darkness.

"Maybe you can give him a call when, I've got you patched up." Dean turned his head again briefly, to nod carefully in Sam's direction. Sam's hands had been working swiftly while he talked and he finished sewing sliced skin back together. With a final wipe to clean up the gash, he put some antibiotic cream on it and then bandaged it up. Dean started to move, but Sam put a firm hand on his brother's shoulder. "Wait Dean, I need to pick the debris out of your back."

All Sam got in reply was a muffled "'kay" as Dean settled back down, so he pulled out the tweezers and began. There was a combination of wood, glass, and what gruesomely looked like bloody bone sticking out of Dean. Sam was dying to know exactly what had gone down before Dean leapt home, but right now it was more important to get this stuff out of his brother. He described what he was doing, as Dean tried not to flinch and wriggle. Blood flowed from each small cut and it was grim work extracting some of the longer and deeper pieces. He stitched a couple of the deeper cuts and tried to ignore the small moans and whimpers that Dean couldn't suppress. It took a long time and a lot of concentration for Sam to methodically pluck all the shrapnel free, but finally it was done. He gently bandaged most of Dean's lower back.

"Dean I'm just gonna check you out to make sure I haven't missed anything, Okay?," Sam asked. Dean didn't reply, but didn't resist as Sam felt his legs, the undamaged part of his torso and then probed long fingers through his brother's soft hair. Sam noticed that Dean's hair was longer than it had been in a while. It reminded him uncomfortably of when Dean had been a demon. Thinking of Dean with black eyes always brought a lump of anxiety to Sam's throat, but he swallowed it down for now. There was a bump near Dean's right ear which hopefully meant that he'd hit his head falling, not been concussed by the blast. Sam cleaned up the medical supplies, then turned the lights off, leaving just the weak bathroom light on and what little light filtered through the thin curtains. Returning to the bed, he carefully eased Dean's boots off his feet, hoping to make him more comfortable.

"I need you to roll over onto your side. I'll prop some pillows behind you to cushion your back, but I need to see your eyes, Okay Dean?" Sam didn't really wait for a reply, just moved the pillows from his bed into place and helped Dean roll over onto his right side. Now that the room was dark, Dean pried open his eyes slightly. Sam knelt beside the bed and pulled out a pen light. "I know, this part sucks," he commiserated as he shone the light in and away from Dean's eyes. His pupils looked good, so the concussion wasn't too severe. He handed Dean a couple of pain pills from their kit. The injured Winchester swallowed them with a few sips of water from the bottle Sam handed him, then settled back down.

Checking Dean's chest and stomach, Sam made sure he hadn't missed damaged ribs or anything. There were no new injuries, but there was a jagged, ugly scar trailing diagonally across Dean's abdomen. It hadn't been there when Sam had last seen his brother shirtless. It looked to be well healed now, and several months old.

"How'd you get this," Sam said, tracing the raised scar lightly with a finger.

"Hellhound," was the soft reply.

"Shit," Sam exclaimed softly, knowing the fear Dean harboured from his terrible death at their claws. He turned to look at Dean's face. When he'd been using the pen light, Dean's eyes had watered up but now silent tears were rolling down his brother's face. Sam expected Dean to look away, or at least wipe the evidence of his emotional state from his cheeks, but instead Dean met his eyes.

"Glad to be home, Sammy," was all Dean said, his face twitching as he tried and failed to get his emotions under control. Not used to a big brother that wasn't embarrassed by tears, Sam didn't know what to say. But he put his hand on Dean's shoulder for a long moment, squeezing it to try and comfort the older man as best he could. Dean's skin was cold under his palm, so Sam reached down and pulled the sheet and blanket up over the injured Winchester. With another pat on his brother's shoulder, Sam got to his feet and began getting ready for bed. He could feel Dean's eyes on him as he moved around the room so he made an effort to say in Dean's sight line as much as possible. Once he was ready, he returned to check on Dean. There was still moisture on his freckled face, but Dean seemed to have pulled himself together. Sam stood for a minute looking down at the bed.

"Scoot over a bit," Sam said before he had time to second guess himself. Surprisingly, Dean did as he was told, pushing back against the pillows behind him to make some room. Sam slid his legs under the covers and sat leaning against the headboard, Dean's head level with his thighs. Some conversations were easier for Dean when he could avoid making eye contact. Hell, he'd be lying if he didn't feel the same way. "So," Sam began quietly into the dark room, "how long were you there?" At first Sam thought maybe Dean was refusing to answer or had fallen asleep, but then in a low voice, Dean began to talk.

"Almost a year, Sammy," Dean said with a break in his voice. Sam repressed a curse. If he thought ten days without his brother were hard, he didn't want to think about a year, especially in the middle of an active apocalypse. No wonder his brother was emotional.

"What did they want you for?" Sam asked softly. Christopher hadn't been very specific.

"Wait," Dean said, leveraging up on one arm to look around. "Where is the guy who was supposed to be watching out for you." Sam sighed.

"Christopher uh...didn't make it. He got killed by an imp that hitchhiked it's way here before he could tell me much."

Dean hung his head briefly and then laid back down. "I knew his wife and daughter," Dean said quietly. Sam could hear regret in his brother's voice. Packed in the trunk of the car was the stuffed tiger, photo and note belonging to the dead man, but Sam kept that to himself for now.

Dean continued talking again, answering Sam's original question. "In that world, our family was different. We had a sister named Lynn." With that Dean's voice cracked a little again, and he had to clear his throat. "That Dean and Sam weren't close. Lynn raised that version of you and her Dean hunted with Dad. When push came to shove, her Sam chose Lucifer over his family. He seemed to get caught up in the power that came with the Devil and was eager to indulge in his dark side. Apparently Lucifer let that Sam go on a mini killing spree and payback everyone who had pissed Sam off. Starting with their Dad. Then Sam killed his brother in the confrontation at Stull, so they snatched me to try and reach their version of you."

Sam was trying to absorb what Dean was telling him. He could vividly remember the horrible feeling of his brother's face breaking under his fist. He shuddered. It was hard to get past the fact that some version of him had killed his family, much less been happy and willing to share skin with the devil. Sam's deepest nightmares revolved around the real Lucifer, the one hidden by whatever vessel the sick son of a bitch was wearing, the one that had tortured Sam for a couple of centuries. Tearing his thoughts back to Dean, Sam took a calming breath then prodded his brother to continue. "So you confronted Lucifer? What happened?"

"Nothing really. The witches had a protection spell that kept us safe from him for a short time. Lynn and I begged Sam to take control and cast out Lucifer, but he just laughed at us. Told us that Sam was enjoying being best buddies and that Sam looked forward to killing me again." Dean grew quiet again, obviously lost in memories. Dean's hand was on Sam's leg, his fingers slightly twisting the soft fabric of his sleep pants. Sam just let Dean draw whatever comfort he could from him. His brother obviously needed it, and Sam couldn't deny that despite the frightening content of their conversation, having his brother so close was doing a lot to heal the parts of him that had been panicked and raw while Dean was gone. He always felt safer with Dean around.

"So, then what. Did you and uh, Lynn kill Lucifer?" Sam really didn't want to think about Dean having to kill someone who looked like Sam. It was just too messed up.

"No, Michael and Castiel and the rest of their God squad showed up. We got whooshed back to headquarters before the angel/demon rumble." Dean sounded bitter and angry. Sam knew that his brother probably felt guilty too. He would consider it his responsibility to take out Lucifer.

"Wow. So, what was that Cas like?," Sam asked.

"Just another dick halo Sam. Nothing like our version. Speaking of which, how is Cas doing?," Dean asked. Sam recognized a intentional change of subject when he heard it. And he probably should contact Cas to let him know that Dean was back.

"He's still healing, but getting better. I'd better call him." Sam picked up his phone that he'd put on the night table and dialed. Cas picked up before the first ring was over.

"Is Dean back, Sam?," the angel asked with no preamble.

"Yeah, Cas. He's here and he's Ok." Sam tried to reassure him. Dean waved his hand, motioning for the phone. "Dean wants to say hi." He handed the phone to his brother.

"Hey Cas, it's me," Dean said. Sam listened to his brother's half of the brief conversation, feeling calm enough for sleep for the first time since Dean was snatched. "Uh, huh…yeah,...me too...Ok, here's Sam back." Dean shoved the phone in his direction and nestled deeper into the pillows. With a silent chuckle Sam took the phone back.

"I'm glad that Dean is back, Sam," Cas said in his understated way.

"Yeah, me too," the younger Winchester agreed fervently. "Hey, are you still at the bunker, Cas?" Sam was a little puzzled when the angel confirmed that he hadn't left yet. He'd figured that Cas would have been halfway to them by now. Shrugging, Sam figured that Cas had maybe been more confident than he was that Dean would be coming back. Anyway, it was good to know that Cas was safe. "Well, we'll see you tomorrow or the next day, depending on how Dean's feeling. Bye Cas." Sam ended the call and put the phone back down. Dean appeared to have fallen asleep while Sam talked, his breathing low and slow. Sam was glad that Dean was resting and wasn't in a lot of pain. The older man's fingers were still curled loosely around his leg, so Sam stayed where he was. He tentatively brushed Dean's hair away from his face. It was good to have his brother home. Despite the less than comfortable position, Sam was exhausted so he just leaned back against the headboard and let sleep drag him under.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean opened his eyes and stared around the unfamiliar room. Something had woken him up, but he couldn't remember what. Then he heard it again, a baby crying. He knew that it was Joy and that he had to get to her, to save her. Swinging his legs off the bed, he walked towards the closed bathroom door. A bright light shone behind the door, making the outline of the nondescript door seem ominous. Dean placed a hand on the door and slowly pushed it open. Instead of the tile and fixtures there was nothing but a room, empty except for the body lying slumped in a pool of blood. Rushing over, Dean rolled the cold body over. The dead eyes of Alex stared up at him from the man's bloody face. Huge gashes ran parallel down his torso, shredding his chest into ribbons. Hellhound claws! Dean frantically looked around, suddenly terrified that the invisible demon dogs were there, ready to drag him back to hell. But the room was quiet except for Joy's thin cry.

Following the baby's wailing back into the motel room proper, Dean walked over to the dresser where the cry seemed to be coming from. With his heart in his throat Dean reached for the handle on the top drawer. The crying cut off abruptly and Dean steeled himself to pull the drawer open. A splash of liquid landed on his legs and bare feet as blood poured out of the wooden frame in a torrent to flood the room. Joy was there, her tiny dead body floating in a box of blood, her eyes open and unseeing. Jumping away from the horrible sight, Dean splashed his way through blood towards the door of the motel room. He had to get away, he had to find Sam! Pulling the door open and rushing outside, he found himself in Stull Cemetery. Spinning around the motel was gone.

"Dean," said a voice behind him. Turning back, there was Sam and Lynn on their knees in front of Lucifer. This Lucifer was wearing the black silk pajamas and Sam's face. But Dean knew that the Sam on his knees was his real brother. "Dean," the voice said again and the eldest Winchester raised his eyes to glare at the devil.

"Get away from them, you son of a bitch," he cursed. He tried to get to his family, but he was frozen in place. Lucifer spoke again, his voice a mockery of Sammy's warm tone.

"It's too late Dean, they're already dead. Your family is all dead." And with that Lucifer's eyes glowed red and a massive ball of flame burst from his outstretched hands. Dean shielded his eyes from the light and heat, expecting to die from the assault, but in a moment it was gone along with the demonic archangel. What was left were two pillars of ash in the shape of his brother and sister.

"No," Dean gasped in horror, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. He took a step towards the figures. Then, without warning, a wind blew up and swept the immolated bodies into a swirling wave of ash that struck Dean, coating him in the remains of his family.

xxxxxxx

Dean jerked awake, sitting up in his bed, kicking his legs free from the tangled sheet and blanket. He was panting in terror and his heart was trying to beat it's way out of his chest. Frantically, he wiped at his face and body. Dean forced himself to calm down and suck some oxygen into his straining lungs. It had been a nightmare, frightening, but nothing more. He looked around the motel room, but all was as it should be, except for the absence of his younger brother.

"Sam?," he called. Looking over, at the other bed, there was a note written in Sam's precise handwriting. Struggling out of bed, conscious now of the pull from the stitches on his side, and the ache from his back, he picked up the note. "Coffee run. Be back soon. Sam"

Dean dropped the note and ran a hand down his stubbled face. He felt sweaty and gross, the feeling of ash on his skin still vivid from his nightmare. Sam had left his duffle by his bed and Dean gingerly bent down to pick it up. His clothes that he had left behind were clean and neatly folded inside. He hardly recognized them as his. It had been a long time since Dean had more than one set of clothes. Grabbing some underwear, jeans and a t-shirt, he tucked his shaving bag under his arm and made his way to the bathroom.

He stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was too long and he had a new small scar by his left ear. Other than that, and the bleak look in the green eyes staring back at him, he looked the same way he had the last time he looked into this mirror. At least on the outside he was the same. Inside Dean felt shattered from grief and guilt and loss, his pieces held together by threads. Dean turned away from the mirror and brushed his teeth. Then peeling off the bandages, he took a look at his injuries in the harsh bathroom light. Sam's even stitches carved a line down his left side. The wound stung, but the pain wasn't too bad. Looking over his shoulder, Dean tried to see the cuts on his back. He couldn't get a good look at this angle, but his lower back looked a bit like ground beef, red and swollen, with the blue tinge of bruising beginning to show. The cuts didn't look too bad, although he noticed a few had needed a stitch or two. Twisting around hurt, so he gave up trying to see. Sam had taken good care of him, and he trusted his brother's work. Dean peeled of the rest of his grimy clothes and stepped into the shower.

As the hot water beat down on his shoulders, Dean thought about last night. He was a little surprised at himself and embarrassed at how emotional he'd been. You'd think by this point that he'd be used to losing people he loved. He used to be able to lock down his emotions - push everything deep so that he could put on a brave face for Sam and have the strength to do what needed to be done. Of course, Sam could see right through him usually. Although his chest ached and a lump formed in his throat thinking about the family he had found and then lost in the alternative world, Dean knew he'd made the right choice in coming back to Sam. Being with his brother again last night, well, he and Sam were very different but being away from Sam was like losing an arm or a leg. A vital part was missing and he had been walking around wounded for a year. He smirked at his own thoughts, "Geez Dean, sappy much!"

A few minutes later he was shaved, dressed and toweling dry his too long hair. He'd swing in somewhere and get it cut as soon as he got a chance. Dean picked up his tattered jacket and clothes from the night before and was surprised at the quantity of blood on his jeans and the remains of his shirt. He fished his belongings out of the jacket pockets before tossing the whole mess into the trash. With nothing else to do, Dean gingerly sat on the edge of the bed to put on some socks. He knew that Sam would be back shortly, but he was starting to feel that anxious need for his brother again. It was ridiculous how clingy he'd been last night, but he could always blame it on the blood loss and the knock on the head. Dean resisted the urge to pace the room. After what felt like an hour, but was only really a few minutes, he heard the key at the door. Getting to his feet, he dug through his duffle, pretending to be busy.

The smell of fresh coffee came in the door with Sam. "Hey, you're up!," Sam said. He put the take out tray, bag of donuts and a small greasy bag on the table before shrugging out of his jacket. Dean watched this normal everyday activity with a sense of relief. When Sam turned to hand him his cup, Dean saw his face clearly for the first time in the light. The left side of Sam's face was a bit swollen, red with a blueish undertone that told Dean that the injury was only a few days old. There was also a rough gash on his brother's cheek, too ragged for a knife. The cut was healing, but there were still a few butterfly bandages holding it together. He reached out to gently grip Sam's chin, angling the younger man's face toward the light streaming in the window.

"What happened?," Dean asked, instantly in big brother mode. Someone had hurt the kid, so in a perfect world, someone would be getting their lungs ripped out. At least if he had anything to say about it. But although it was home, this world was far from perfect. Sam reached up to wrap his long fingers around Dean's wrist but he let Dean take a look.

"Bar fight," was all Sam said.

"You got into a bar fight? Seriously? That's really not your style Sammy." Dean was partly teasing, but also genuinely curious.

"Well, it was a bunch of homophobic jackasses who were looking for trouble," Sam said. With that he pulled Dean's hand from his face and handed him a coffee.

Dean just nodded his thanks and took a sip of the hot beverage, savoring the taste as he carefully settled into one of the chairs at the small table. He'd missed coffee since it was in short supply in the alternative world. He inhaled the fragrant steam, but then remembered something Lynn had told him about her version of Sam.

"Hey Sam," Dean said as his brother handed him the bag of donuts. "Are you gay?" Sam sputtered slightly into his coffee and gave Dean a puzzled look as he sat down on the other side of the rickety table.

"Uh, no Dean, I didn't switch teams while you were gone. Why are you asking?" Sam bit into his donut getting powdered sugar all over his flannel shirt.

"Alternative you was, that's all. He had a boyfriend before he buddied up with Lucifer." Dean could see a pained look flash across Sam's face as the younger man shifted uncomfortably. He leaned closer, mindful of his stitches, but something was going on with Sammy. "Hey are you Ok, Sam?"  



	12. Chapter 12

Sam squirmed a little in his chair, his insides turning to ice even as he held the hot paper cup. Thinking about any version of himself being "buddies" with Lucifer made his skin crawl. He tried very hard not to think about the terrible things the archangel had done to him during his time in the Cage. Sam took another swallow of the hot coffee to settle himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, proud at how normal he sounded. With difficulty, he swallowed his last bite of donut. Dean stared at him closely and Sam had to let his gaze dart to the side to avoid meeting his eyes.

"No, you're not," Dean said calmly. "What's going on?" Dean crossed his arms and leaned back against the chair. A sharp hiss of pain and his quick lean forward made it obvious that he had forgotten about his injured back.

"Do you need me to re-bandage your back?" Sam jumped to his feet, eager to latch on to this distraction. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Lucifer.

"Nah, it'll be fine." It wasn't until Dean grabbed his arm to stop him that Sam even realized he was pacing the small space between the bed and the table. "Sammy, what's going on?," Dean implored in that big brother voice that Sam found hard to resist. Sinking onto the edge of the bed across from Dean, Sam found himself struggling to gather his thoughts. Anxiety churned his stomach.

"Nothing really," he paused. It was always so difficult to put his fear of Lucifer into words that didn't make him feel ashamed and weak. "It's just thinking about Lucifer and some version of me wanting to be with him..." Sam couldn't suppress a full body shudder at that. "It's hard to think about. A random thought drifted through Sam's brain and he jumped to his feet again. "Wait, now that that Lucifer knows about our world, what's to stop him from coming here." Sam could feel his heartbeat begin to race.

Now it was Dean's turn to look away. He walked across the room to stare out the window with tense shoulders, one arm wrapped around himself and the other clenched against the window frame.

"That was his plan, but Sam," Dean turned back towards him, "that's not gonna happen. It's been taken care of."

"How can you be sure?" Even to his own ears, Sam sounded like a pathetic child. He shook his head in frustration. He'd just gotten Dean back, the thought of round two of the apocalypse following his brother back here made him feel sick. Dealing with the visions he'd been having of his time in the Cage with Lucifer were bad enough, but at least here the devil was locked up again.

"Because the only people who could open the portal are all dead," said Dean, his voice heavy with sorrow. Something in Dean's tone got Sam's attention. He took a few steps and joined his brother at the window. The Impala's chrome shimmered in the morning sunshine, but there was precious else to look at in the dirty parking lot. After a long moment, Dean glanced at him.

"After Lynn died, and I jumped, the witches of the coven blew themselves up to be sure Lucifer couldn't follow." Dean said the words flatly.

"Wait, Lynn is dead?," Sam asked, slightly shaken by this news. He'd figured that their alternative world sister was back in the other world, fighting the good fight. He hadn't thought that she was dead. No wonder Dean had been so wrecked last night.

"Yeah, Lynn, her husband Alex, their baby Joy…" Dean's voice cracked a little. Moving slowly, Dean turned and fetched the black bag he'd had with him last night. Putting it on the table he unzipped it and lifted out a small stack of photographs, protected by some cardboard and bundled together with a rubber band.

Sam noticed that Dean squared his stance and subtly braced himself. It was a move Sam had seen his brother do thousands of times as he prepared himself for something painful. Feeling helpless to protect him, Sam simply watched Dean's face as the older man flicked through the photos. Dean stopped only once, to look at a photo with a strange combination of wistfulness and anger on his face. When he was done, he handed the stack to Sam and sat back down to take a swig of his cooling coffee.

"Wow, they look pretty much like us," Sam said, a touch of wonder in his voice. He sat and brought some of the pictures almost to his nose as he peered at the sister he never had. There had been almost no women in his life until he'd left to go to college. It was hard to imagine a version of his family with a female presence. Then he found the photo that Dean had stopped at. In the shot, Dean was holding a very new baby, looking at the bundle in his arms with a look of awe, while a tired but happy looking Lynn gazed at them both. He flipped the photo around and showed it to Dean. His brother took a quick glance then peered into his coffee like it held the meaning of life in its depths.

"Lynn was pregnant when I got there. She had the baby a few months after I got there. Her name was Joy." Dean said briefly answering the question Sam hadn't asked. Sam could see grief deepen the lines on the face across from his. "Alex was Lynn's husband. He was a photographer before their world went to shit. He was a really good guy, quiet and smart - he kind of reminded me of you." Dean cleared his throat, and swallowed hard. Sam was touched by the thoughtless compliment. He handed the stack of photos back to Dean who stuffed them back into the bag. Dean squeezed the handles between his hands for a second before looking around the motel room.

"You know what, let's just pack up and get out of here Sammy," Dean said. Careful of his injuries, he picked up the black bag and then hoisted his duffle bag onto his shoulder and headed for the door. Sam tossed the coffee cups and the donut bag and rose to follow. He shouldered the last of their stuff and at the last minute grabbed a thin pillow from one of the beds. He took a final look around and closed the door. He too was glad to be getting out of this room.

Dean was already in the driver's seat when Sam came back from returning the room keys, so Sam went around and climbed into his usual spot, the door creaking a familiar greeting.

"Here," he said, "lean forward," he instructed Dean, shoving the soft pillow between Dean's injured back and the leather seat. Dean settled into the pillow and turned the key. The Impala sprang to life, her throaty growl sounding like comfort. Now that Dean was in his rightful place behind the wheel, Sam started to relax a little bit. Dean maneuvered the big car out onto the road and pointed her towards the bunker.

"Thanks Sam," Dean said gruffly, eyes still on the road. Sam knew his gratitude wasn't just for the pillow.

xxxxxxx

A few hours later Dean was stiff and tired behind the wheel. His back ached and his eyes were gritty, but he felt calmer than he had since he'd gotten back. The radio was down low, and Baby was eating up the miles toward the bunker. It was peaceful for the moment and the intense grief that he felt at losing Lynn and his other family was cushioned somewhat by the sound of his brother's soft snores. Dean glanced over and smiled fondly. Sam had drifted off, head tilted against the passenger window. The kid always slept well in the car.

Dean had been thinking a lot about Sam, and their life. Ever since he'd shown up at Stanford and dragged Sam back into the nightmare that was hunting, he'd felt guilty. Logically he knew that the forces of Heaven and Hell had manipulated their lives from before they were both even born. Sam's return to the road was inevitable, but in his heart, he wished he could have given Sammy more of a chance to have a normal life. Sam should have finished college, gotten married, had kids. He felt the sting of tears behind his eyes as that thought brought the memory of Joy to his mind. Dean had loved being an uncle for the few months he'd had. It wasn't fair that his niece's life had ended before it had even begun. Shaking his head, he pushed aside that train of thought. There was no point dwelling in the past. It wasn't the first time he'd lost someone he loved and had to keep going. He shoved his grief down into the well used black hole in his gut and focused on the road.

Dean's stomach rumbled. The community had been on short rations for a few weeks. He was used to being hungry and tended to ignore it when he had a job to do. But he figured that Sam had been neglecting himself while he was gone. Whenever the younger man worried, he forgot to eat, and Sam was looking skinny and worn. Dean pulled off at the next exit. It was as good a time as any for lunch.

He found a diner and parked the car. The place looked nice enough and boasted fresh coffee and sweet tea according to the hand lettered sign outside. Dean sat in the warm car for a minute, letting the absence of engine noise wake Sam. Sure enough, in a minute or two Sam stirred, turning his head towards Dean almost before he was awake.

"What time is it?," Sam slurred as he stretched and yawned.

"Time for some lunch, c'mon Sam," Dean said and stepped out into the hot August day. Sam followed and soon they were settled at a table in the corner with orders of BBQ on their way. Sam was still waking up and Dean watched the condensation drops roll down his glass of Coke. He looked at Sam who still had a warm rumpled look that made him seem a lot younger than his 32 years. Sam must have noticed him watching because he shrugged and smiled.

"What?," Sam asked. Dean opened his mouth to tease his brother but surprised even himself with what actually came out.

"I'm sorry Sam," Dean said seriously. All of a sudden, he had to get this off his chest.

"What for Dean? It's not like you wanted to get grabbed and dragged into another world." Sam's voice was pitched low, despite there only being one other table with people.

"I should have gotten you out. I should have found a way to give you a better life than what we had." Dean was solemn with regret. "Lynn got her Sam out you know? Stood up to their Dad, got out of hunting, found a place and a job, enrolled her brother in school - even got him into college. I should have done that for you Sam." Dean drew his finger through the puddle around his glass. "You deserved better."

A myriad of emotions crossed Sam's face, including confusion, but when Sam began to speak it was with an earnest intensity.

"Dean," Sam reached out and gripped Dean's wrist, "You've taken care of me my whole life, given everything to me, done extraordinary things for me, even when I didn't deserve them. I have no idea what our lives would have been like with a sister, but I couldn't ask for a better brother." Dean looked into Sam's eyes, floored by the love and compassion he found there. The younger man released his wrist, but kept the eye contact until Dean had to yank his gaze away or risk getting emotional.

"I just wish that you'd had a chance to be a lawyer, get married, maybe have a few rugrats." Dean sighed, but Sam just smiled at him.

"Thanks Dean, I appreciate that, but I'm good...we're good, really. You're you again," Sam shot a pointed look at the spot on his arm where the Mark of Cain had been a few short months ago, "and now that you're back, we're gonna find a way to stop the Darkness. Together."

"Alright Sammy," was all Dean said, but he felt a warm swell of affection for his kid brother surge through him. For the first time in a long time, Dean felt like maybe there was a light at the end of this long tunnel they had been struggling in. He and Sam were in a good place now, better than they had been in years. He had a chance to make things between them better now. Life was uncertain, but maybe there was reason to hope.


End file.
